


Of Power, Hearts and Magic

by Lizzz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2017-12-09 00:28:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 109,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzz/pseuds/Lizzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a trace of kindness in every deluded criminal, a touch of cruelty in even the most righteous of minds. Even the Dark Lord, they would whisper, even the Dark Lord has to be a little kind, a little human underneath his frozen smile. Human enough for someone's mysterious existence to rile him up..</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of the HP characters, they are the creation of J.K Rowling, I merely borrowed them, with the exception of characters that do not appear in the Harry Potter films/ books, those are mine.  
> I hope you like it and feel free to comment.  
> I use Italics for thoughts and '....' for normal speech.

There is no such thing as good or bad. The world was not meant to be looked upon with black or white eyes. Every action, every thought, every being has shades; shades that in the course of our lives get moulded and twisted until we perceive only an overall image. But if you look closely you will find a trace of kindness in every deluded criminal, a touch of cruelty in even the most righteous of minds. We are not spared the pangs and thorns of our complexity; one might go as far as to say we are burdened by it.

                                                                    ************************

The sky shook with immense power; a tremble shivered its way down the spine of the world as the clouds grew darker and darker. The air rippled with the silence that was to precede the violent storms of years not yet passed. It was that sort of loud quietness that unnerved most humans. Muggles would cower inside brightly lit rooms, near carefully attended fires, while most wizards would take comfort in the proximity of their wands, lovingly stroking the wood, as they would caress their beloved.  You could sense something was brewing behind the fabric of the Universe...

Wool’s Orphanage was fast asleep behind grey walls. The rain started pouring from the skies, hitting dirty roof tiles and squealing windows, giving the depressing building an even dirtier look.  Children were snoring lightly inside, whimpering occasionally and curling underneath damp sheets, searching for some spot of warmth and finding none. One laid still, facing the ceiling with his eyes closed. His skin prickled with the static in the air, his ears twitched ever so slightly in anticipation. His whole body was waiting for something, something of which his mind was not yet aware. A warm, sweet breeze crept into the room and Tom Riddle shot his eyes open. He searched the darkness of his detested bedroom with caution. Nothing. He let his mind slither around the edges of his bed, down onto the floorboard and up, across the cold walls, until, finally, it reached the door. Again, nothing. The breeze, however, persisted in existence and it riled him. It smelled of cakes and fresh pastries, lemon tarts and cinnamon pancakes; delights one would find in a welcoming kitchen or, at Hogwarts. _Perhaps a memory_ , he thought... _Yes... Soon, I’ll be rid of this vile place. A few more days and I get back there. Yes… that’s it. A memory._ He closed his eyes once more and let his mind go back to Hogwarts, his home.

 

The castle stood like a giant shadow against the pouring rain. The storm was washing away the last remains of summer and heat, bringing instead the chill of barren trees and misty mornings. Drops were rushing down turrets and statues, coming together at the stone’s edges, falling farther down towards the muddy ground. A tall figure was coming down a distant path, approaching the gates to the castle. He stopped for a moment, looked around and kneeled in front of a shivering wet lump of dark clothes. He took his cloak from around his shoulders and covered the trembling shape which he then picked up as fast as he could manage. The gates opened with a squeak and Albus Dumbledore entered the grounds of Hogwarts cradling a body in his arms. He rushed to the entrance as if he were merely carrying a basket full of flowers, all the time the figure sinking further and further into the dark cloak, concealing itself from the world.

‘Albus!  Returned so soon? ‘Madam Creavey was returning from her desk when Dumbledore entered the Hospital Wing.

‘Have you…’ she was about to ask him about the packages she had sent him in Hogsmeade for, when she noticed the shivering body he had wrapped his cloak around.  She hurried the man towards the nearest bed and produced her wand from under her white apron. She flicked it towards the body and removed Dumbledore’s blue cloak. Her eyes darkened with pain almost at once; she had been matron at Hogwarts for many years, yet even to this day, it was still hard for her to see a child hurt.

Dumbledore watched as the nurse in charge took care of the girl’s soaked clothes with quick wand movements. He had the kindest of regards for Lena Creavey. She was one of the most talented Healers in Britain and she had been Matron of Hogwarts’ Hospital Wing since before he had studied there himself. No one truly knew how old Madam Creavey was for the simple fact that, whenever she was needed, her tiny, bony body would cease to look fragile and, suddenly, she would become as imposing as the Minister of Magic himself. Her wrinkles and pale green eyes, worn out by the weight of all she’d seen were testimony enough of her long years in the service of the school. She was a kind, capable witch, and Albus Dumbledore had all the respect for her, as well as an important amount of gratitude which came with her healing his bones after some unsuccessful escapades on broomsticks in forth year at Hogwarts.

Madam Creavey tucked the girl in bed after magically replacing her clothes with clean, warm, pyjamas, but not before searching her thoroughly for any wounds or lacerations. There were none.

‘Where did you find her, Albus?’ she asked thoughtful.

‘Just outside the gates.  There were no signs of an attack of any kind, or of how she got there for that matter. She can’t be a Muggle, the charms would’ve kept her at bay and you can sense even now the magic pouring out of her. But she had no wand on her, Lena, or any other possession for that matter.’ Dumbledore was looking at the girl with intrigued fascination. Madam Creavey, however, was concerned. Something was amiss…

‘I checked her. She was in hypothermic shock. I gave her a potion for that, she should be fine. But there’s something…’ she shook her head. Perhaps it was the weather, but the girl gave her a sense of uneasiness.

‘Yes?’ Albus looked at Madam Creavey curious.

‘It’s nothing. Just a feeling. But I think that girl might’ve suffered something more than a hypothermic shock. Look at her, Albus.’ They were both looking. There was a shadow of pain on the girl’s face. She didn’t look older than sixteen, yet there truly was something… odd about her. Maybe it was the wave of magic pulsating from her. Or maybe it was the way she laid there still, as if some memory of an old pain lingered beneath the surface of her pale skin, threatening to burst out, yet freezing her body in that unnatural calmness. It was the quietness of a shock, one any bystander would be uncertain whether it would ever surface or not.  She was slender and, by the looks of it, a bit taller than some other girls of sixteen when standing. Wet locks of light hazel hair rested on her shoulders and framed her face. _She looks pretty_ , he guessed. _Normal, even, yet… not quite._

‘Hm...’ Dumbledore was frowning at the bed.

‘Who might she be?’ wondered Madam Creavey before turning slowly towards her desk. ‘You must inform Dippet, Dumbledore.’

‘Yes… I suppose I must.’ Nevertheless, he did not leave. He pulled a chair near the bed and sat down looking out the window, at the pouring rain. After a while, he smiled. The room smelled of cakes and freshly baked pastries, lemon tarts and cinnamon pancakes.

 

                                                                                           *


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit to Diagon Alley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments are welcomed. I would like to know your opinions. :)

                                                                    *

She was travelling through a web of dreams, fighting her way out of the nightmares, trying to reach the surface of reality. But the voice, the hissing voice, was following her, running after her. She had half a mind to let herself be caught by it, just stop, turn around and face it. After all, it was only a nightmare… What could it possibly do to her? But she didn’t. Sometimes, not knowing is better. So she kept running through the chills of darkness and nothingness. After a while, the faint smell of cinnamon caught up with her. She felt a pang grow inside of her and she stopped dead in her tracks. _That smell…_ A shy smile formed on her lips, just as the voice finally reached her. It enveloped her, drowning her in a cacophony of sounds. She could make out the shrill scream of a woman calling out a name, a high-pitched laugh and a warm, deep whisper. She didn’t like those voices, all barking at her, demanding her ears, her attention, bringing with them a cloak of palpable darkness.

The kind voice of an old man brought her out of the pit of nightmares. Her eyes shot open to the warm light of a large room. She could barely make out some silhouettes before the white took over her eyes. She blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the light.

‘Where am I?’ she whispered as fear began to creep up inside her.

Dumbledore smiled at the sight of her waking up. Her eyes were quite big, reminding him of those of a child. She seemed frightened, yet those black irises inspired the courage of a lost soul, with nothing more to lose, cemented in a desperate determination to not be weak. He was utterly fascinated, so much that he forgot, for quite a few minutes, to answer her. He’d never seen anything like those black pools of raw, untamed emotions. _Extraordinary,_ he thought. Her face showed a multitude of emotions and, although anyone could read them on her, she retained the same aura she had had in her sleep. Something was amiss. You could read her innocence on her easily, yet even that contained a shadow which made the beholder doubtful. Was all there, in her eyes? Or was she hiding something? If so, she did not even appear to be conscious of it. A living, breathing riddle, emanating a pure, innocent, yet potent magic. It intrigued Dumbledore immensely to see a human capable of being so openly contradictious. However, he was staring at her shamelessly and as he grew more and more aware of this fact, he caught her staring back. It gave him an uneasy feeling, as though she was seeing through his flesh, into his very core, into his soul. And again, she did not seem to be aware of it.

‘You are at Hogwarts, my dear. In the Hospital Wing to be precise.’ He smiled at her.

‘Where?’ She looked utterly confused at the large room she was in and then back at the bearded man in front of her. He seemed kind and, maybe, a bit concerned.

‘Hogwarts, dear, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You haven’t heard of it?’ answered Dumbledore frowning at her.

‘No… no, I haven’t’ she studied him carefully as she replied to him. He had a grey beard, as was his hair and the wrinkles on his forehead showed an increasing amount of concern and curiosity. His face was tired. He was sitting on a chair next to her bead, his legs crossed, wearing a purple suit which made him look regal, old and almighty. His long fingers displayed a variety of interesting looking rings while he was twirling a long wooden stick.

‘Who are you?’ she asked him. She was confused and scared. She looked out the large windows. It was a clouded morning and she imagined hearing distant thunders from a long-gone storm. She grabbed the blanket with her hand and started fidgeting with it.

‘I am Albus Dumbledore. I am a professor here. What about you?’ he smiled encouragingly.

‘I…’ she concentrated on her hands. Her ears were ringing and her head was throbbing. Her heart was slowly sinking.

‘I…’

Dumbledore looked at her hands playing nervously with the blanket.

‘I…’ her voice broke for the third time.

She raised her head with determination. Why was there no answer?

“I…!’ she tried for the fourth time. ‘I… I don’t… I don’t know.’ Her face spoke enough for her. Dumbledore could see her frustration, embarrassment, fear and anger written in her glassy eyes, in her reddened cheeks. He could sense the level of magic spiking in her as the realization dawned on her.

‘Who am I?’ her eyes were twinkling and her body was shaking.

‘I found you outside the gates, curled on the ground, soaked from the rain. You had no possessions on you and there was no sign of how you got there, not even footsteps in the mud. But you’re a witch, otherwise you couldn’t have gotten there at all. I’m sorry my dear, I don’t know who you are, but I promise you, I will help you.’  

He got up and stroked her cheek. His hand was prickling. She looked miserable and helpless, a lost girl with no family and no memories.  He would not fail her.

‘Now, I have some errands to do but I will be back soon, alright? Here’s your breakfast and if you need anything just ask Madam Creavey.’

She followed his gestures, from the table to her right to the desk in the hallway where an old woman was filling out some forms. Dumbledore was now heading in Madam Creavey’s direction. The girl got up and ran after him.

‘Please, don’t. Don’t leave me.’ She looked up at him with wide, teary eyes. She was half hating herself for begging a stranger not to leave her, but she was too scared to even care in that moment.

‘I promised you, didn’t I?’ replied Dumbledore giving her a warm smile. ‘I’ll be back before you can say quidditch.’

‘What’s quidditch?’

‘Erh… a game. I’ll tell you all about it when I return. Alright? Now, back to your bed, before Madam Creavey can admonish you.’

She returned slowly to her bed, turning around to glance back at the old man a few times, pouting just like a child, left all by herself in spite of her pleading.

‘Look after her, Lena.’ Said Dumbledore as he rushed past Madam Creavey’s desk, towards the stairs that led to the Headmaster’s Office.

Madam Creavey raised an eyebrow, as if to say ‘whenever did I not?’, and returned to her papers. She would, from time to time, raise her head towards the girl to check on her.

 

‘Am I dangerous?’

‘Merlin’s beard!’ gasped Madam Creavy at the unexpected sound.

‘I won’t even bother asking who’s Merlin…’ said the girl glancing at the short woman in front of her. He reminded her of a grandma’, whatever one looked like, she just had that impression.

‘Why would you say that?’ asked the nurse calming her poor heart.

‘Because you keep glancing at me as if I were some kind of strange, possibly dangerous animal. And Professor Dumbledore said to look after me. Maybe I am a troublesome child… Am I?’

_She surely looks like one,_ thought Madam Creavey, _sneaking up on people like that._ But she smiled at her nevertheless, she looked less frightened now. Perhaps she recognised the pointlessness in that.

‘No, you are not dangerous. Professor Dumbledore is worried for you, that’s all. Have you eaten?’

‘Yes. Thank you for the breakfast, it was delicious.’ She pulled herself a chair next to Madam Creavey’s desk and sat down, hugging her legs.

‘You are an excellent cook.’

‘Oh, no, dear’ laughed Madam Creavey, making her wrinkles gather at the corners of her eyes. ‘The house elves do all the cooking and laundry and cleaning at Hogwarts.’

‘Oh… What are house elves?’ she asked, curious.

‘They are magical creatures which work for the castle. Helga Hufflepuff, one of the four founders of this school, brought them here for their safety.’

‘Interesting.’ Said the girl, however, her face had suddenly clouded with sadness.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Madam Creavey noticing the change in mood.

‘Nothing…it’s just, how can I remember how to talk and all that, but I have no recollection of myself? Why am I not surprised by all this talk about magic? Or, should I be surprised? I don’t understand a single thing and it annoys me beyond belief. Who am I? How did I get here?’ She said all that with calmness Madam Creavey had though only Dumbledore was capable of, but there was an undertone of desperation and, indeed, annoyance in her voice.

‘What I think is that you’ve gone through some kind of shock, and you’ve blocked all your memories because you couldn’t deal with it all. I say this, but there is an alternative, one I don’t like at all. And that is you’ve been cursed by someone. But don’t worry,’ she added seeing the concern in her eyes, ‘I am sure Dumbledore will figure out what to do. In the meantime, I think I know something that will cheer you up. Just wait here.’ As she said that, the woman rose up with incredible energy and sprinted down the hallway, towards the stairs. The girl liked her, especially her way of speaking. She had a faint accent and she spoke quite quickly, as to not waste time. It was the way proficient women communicated.

                                                                            *

 

‘And what do you propose, Albus?’ asked Dippet stroking his white beard. ‘We have no idea who she might be, or why she is here. ‘

‘I am aware of that, Armando, but you must trust me, and she is not dangerous. She is a scared, little girl, alone and with no memories.  I saw no trace of malevolence in her.’

‘Very well, you know I trust you.’ Replied Dippet in a low, tired voice. The weather was taking a toll on him, as were his years. ‘But you must take care of her. She is your responsibility. ‘

‘Of course, sir.’ Dumbledore smiled at the Headmaster as he got up to leave his office.

‘Albus’ the man’s voice reached Dumbledore’s ears just as he was opening the door. He turned around quizzically. ‘You’re sure you’re not letting your emotions get the better of you?’

‘Is there anyone who doesn’t?’ his words lingered for a moment longer in the office as Albus Dumbledore stepped out into the hallway. His own question still rang in his ears. _Is there anyone, indeed…?_

He returned to the Hospital Wing early in the afternoon, holding a package in his arms. He found the girl curled up on her bed reading _Hogwarts. A history_ , undoubtedly given to her by Madam Creavey. A smile crept across his face.

‘I see you’ve found some light reading.’

The girl gave him a wide, luminous smile from behind the book; delight was written all over her face.

‘I think I’ve never read anything more interesting.’ She laughed.

Dumbledore sat down and gave her the package. She looked at him puzzled.

‘I’ve brought you some clothes. You can’t go wandering about in pyjamas, can you?’

‘Am I going somewhere?’ She was suddenly worried.

‘Yes. I took the liberty to enrol you here and we’ll need to fetch you some books and robes, and other such things. After all, the term will start in only a few short days.’ He studied her reaction carefully. ‘Really? I can do that? I can attend Hogwarts?’ her eyes were wide in astonishment. It was incredible how well she resembled a small child.

‘Yes, you can. You are magical, after all.’ Replied Dumbledore just as enthusiastic. ‘I’ll look after you until I can figure out what happened to you. Now, we’ll need to find you a name, seeing as you can’t remember a thing. Any ideas?’ She shrugged. She felt odd thinking about finding a name for herself. It felt…fake.

‘Well, we must call you somehow.’ Said Dumbledore, sensing her reluctance. ‘What about Maud, do you like it?’

She thought about it for a moment.

‘Maud…’ she tasted the word, chewed it, feeling the ring it had. ‘M-A-U-D’ she felt her way around the letter with her lips, let it slip down her tongue. ‘Maud… Do I seem like a Maud?’

‘Yes. It is a beautiful name in my humble opinion.’ Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled merrily at the sound of the name. It suited her perfectly, it was a special, magical name, yet mysterious at the same time.

‘Then… My name is Maud.’ She extended her hand to him, smiling politely.

‘'Exceptionally pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Maud.’ Dumbledore took her hand and shook it, blue eyes sparkling.

‘What about my last name? Won’t people ask me that as well?’

‘Hmm…Let’s see. Maud Blackfire?’ No, it sounds too made-up. Maud Wulfric? It is one of my many middle names, I doubt anyone would notice. And if they do, we can tell them you are my niece. What do you think?’

‘It sounds…unique.’ And she laughed.

‘Then it suits perfectly, my dear’ he too laughed.’ Now, hurry up and get dressed, we have a lot to do.’ He left her to get ready and went to talk to Madam Creavey.

                                                                           *

‘How did you say this thing works?’ asked Maud holding some Floo powder in her right hand.

She and Dumbledore were in front of the fireplace in his office. The flames were a fiery red, raging against the cold stone. They looked positively harmful.

‘You toss a handful of powder into the fireplace and then you walk into the flames. They will not harm you, rest assured. But you must be careful when you pronounce the place you want to arrive at. You must say as clearly as possible so as not to end up in the wrong place. Trust me, you do not want that.’ Dumbledore was urging her towards the fire now, encouraging her with a wide grin. She tossed the silvery powder into the fireplace and watched as the flames turned light green. They were now dancing benignly in front of her, inviting her in. She obeyed them.

‘It’s cold!’ she said astonished.

‘Now, say: Diagon Alley.’

‘Diagon Alley!’ she cried.

The flames engulfed her in an instant, blocking her vision. After a few seconds however, the green tongues retreated and she was looking into a dimly lit bookstore. She stepped out of the fireplace causing the floor to creak under her weight. She turned around just in time to see Dumbledore arrive and having to bend over so he would not bump his head on the mantelpiece. Maud giggled.

‘So, we’re in London?’ she asked as she was studying the bookstore. They were alone.

‘Yes. And this is Diagon Alley!’ He ushered her through the front door, onto a crowded alley full of parents and children running around, shouting and laughing. The buildings harboured all kinds of advertisements, from “The fastest ice-cream in town” to “Britain’s sharpest cauldrons”. Maud ran to the nearest shop window where all sorts of animals were staring at the passing people. They all fixed their eyes on her as she approached. There were toads, cats, snakes, owls, even rats and some curious looking birds. They all stood still, not even moving so much as an inch, as she pressed her forehead on the glass.

‘Hello!’ she said staring right back at them.

Dumbledore watched the scene with interest while people passing by were throwing puzzled looks at Maud. Was she performing some kind of magic? Was there something wrong with the animals? Finally, Dumbledore saw fit to intervene and take Maud away from the shop window; it was better not to attract attention.

‘Come, Maud, we’ll leave this shop for last, there are other things we need to attend to.’ It took her a while to realize Dumbledore was talking to her and that he’s hand was resting on her shoulder. She nearly forgot that she was to be Maud from then on.

‘Sorry, sir.’ She walked away from the window and, as she did so, all the birds and rats and cats turned back to their normal state of restlessness.

‘No worry, dear. Here, have a look at this.’ He handed her the list of things students in their sixth and seventh year were required to bring, as well as first-years. She ran through the list a bit confused.

‘What year do I fit in?’

‘Well, seeing as you’re most likely sixteen, I would’ve said the sixth. However, since you don’t remember anything, I thought it best to buy some first-year books as well. As for the seventh year list… well, let’s just say I have a feeling you’ll be more than capable to get there in a couple of weeks.’ He glanced down at her with confidence. He could feel the level of magic she had, and there was no doubt that once she read through a few books – which he suspected Maud was very eager to do- she would be just fine. Actually, Dumbledore was sure that once he’d put a wand in her hand, Maud would be perfectly capable of astonishing him. But he also knew that all she wanted was to jog her memory, bring back some inkling of who she was, and that is why she would try to acquire as much knowledge as possible.

‘Uhm… Sir? How will I pay for all this?’ she had gone through all the lists and was looking around her at the packed street and crammed shops.

‘Don’t worry about that, Maud.’ Dumbledore replied as he too was searching the street for a particular shop.

‘But I do worry about it. I don’t understand’ her face was marked by sincerity. ‘Why are you helping me? You don’t even know if I’m to be trusted. I could be anyone.’ She was embarrassed to such a degree that her cheeks became a violent red, as if her pale skin were stained with blood. She felt vulnerable, at his mercy. She did not want to be a nuisance.

‘Following that line of thinking, I should’ve left you in the rain, to freeze to death. Why do you assume the worst about yourself? It does not matter who you might’ve been, but who you are now and who you want to become.’ He gave her a pat on the head and went down the alley towards one of the shops full of bizarre instruments. Maud ran after him.

‘You only answered the second part of my question.’ She said when she had finally caught up with him. Dumbledore, however, was exchanging pleasantries with the shop keeper and ignored her. They were surrounded by cauldrons and glass bottles and other recipients. The store was unbearably warm and crowded and it smelled of stewed vegetables mixed with syrup and some other, more dubious ingredients. People were buying colourful potions and sizzling powders. A fat, freckled man was carrying a jar full of eyeballs to the counter. In a corner, a hunched, feeble-looking witch dressed in orange robes was reaching for a glass box filled with claws of some sort. Some children near her were poking what looked like a glass of human fingers. She stepped away from them and looked for Dumbledore. He was now at the counter buying a medium size brass cauldron, an assortment of glass recipients and a box of potion ingredients. He exchanged a friendly good-bye with the shop-keeper and made his way back through the crowd.

They struggled to get out of the shop, people constantly stopping them to greet Dumbledore or to ask him something. He seemed quite loved and esteemed.

‘Sir, are you famous?’ asked Maud after they had successfully exited the shop. Dumbledore laughed.

‘I wouldn’t quite say so.’ He flicked his wand at the cauldron full of ingredients which vanished quietly. ‘You’ll find it in my office when we get back. It’s better to travel light through such crowds.’ He gestured for Maud to follow him and they entered in a bookstore across the street called “Flourish and Blotts”. They came out of the shop with quills, parchment and ink and all the books on the list. A few shops down they bought the robes and a dark green trunk Maud rather liked.

‘Good’ said Dumbledore making them vanish. ‘Now, what’s left on the list?’ He looked down at Maud smiling like a kid; he knew very well what was left. The girl shot a suspicious look at the tall wizard and then at the list.

‘A wand and…a pet “if the student so desires” ‘she quoted from the list.

‘Ah, my old friend Ollivander! I haven’t seen him in quite some time. He’s the best wand maker there is.’ He smiled kindly at her and Maud felt her heart jump in anticipation. _A wand!_   How she had waited for this moment! She almost ran down the street before she remembered she didn’t know the way. So she followed Dumbledore as patiently as she could down the alley, to the right, than into the shop on the left, above which a sign read “Ollivander’s”. She had almost knocked down a tall boy who happened to pass by the building. He shot her a stern, steely look of utter annoyance which stopped her dead in her tracks.

‘Sorry…’ she excused herself looking at her feet. ‘It is entirely my fault.’

‘Yes. It is. You are forgiven, nevertheless.’ His voice had a dangerous calmness, unlike Dumbledore’s which had a serene, reassuring quality to it. This boy had one of the most menacing voices Maud imagined she had heard in her entire life. It was polite, yet cold. Deep and tantalizing like velvet, yet poisoned by a subtle note of cruelty. He was tall and slender, with pale skin, dark eyes and jet black hair. Maud shivered. It felt odd looking into those eyes, being in that young man’s presence. His eyes seemed almost green in the dim light coming from the shop. They stared at each other until Dumbledore came out of the shop to get her.

‘Maud! Come, come.’ She retreated into the shop, happy to get away from that awkward scene and choose her wand. Dumbledore remained in the door nodding to a greeting at the young man. ‘Hello, Tom. How are you?’

‘Fine. And you, sir? What brings you to Diagon Alley?’ replied Tom Riddle looking suspiciously into Ollivander’s shop. He could see the girl through the dark window talking to Ollivander. He was taking out wands for her. How odd. Wasn’t she a bit too old for that? _And what an odd name, Maud._

‘So, Dumbledore tells me you’re his niece and you’ve never had a wand until now.’ Pried Ollivander while he hurried around her with some measuring tape.

‘My parents are…well, odd. ‘Said Maud trying to sound unaffected.

‘Not to worry, Miss Wulfric, not to worry. We’ll soon find you a wand.’ He smiled at her and rushed back to the counter.

‘How do we do that? I just choose one?’ asked Maud innocently.

Ollivander burst into laughter, the way old men often do when talking to oblivious children, while he was climbing a ladder to get to the top shelves. ‘No, no, Miss Wulfric. The wand chooses the wizard, Miss Wulfric. It is not always clear why, but it is the way things are.’ He came back to her with a handful of long, thin boxes which he arranged on a table near the shop window.

‘Let’s see…Let’s start with a Walnut and unicorn core, slightly springy, 12 inches, shall we?’ He handed the wand to Maud who took it slowly, as if not to break it. ‘What should I do?’ she asked confused. ‘Anything. Flick it, point it, wave it. Just not at me, Miss Wulfric.’ He stepped aside as he said it, leaving her plenty of space to wave the wand. She pointed it at the ceiling which instantly burst into flames. The plaster almost immediately started to melt and long orange tongues were threatening to engulf one of the top shelves. Maud gave a yelp as she was narrowly missed by a piece of plaster which fell on the floor with a loud noise, releasing into the air dust and white powder. She heard loud footsteps entering the shop accompanied by the chime of the bell. The next moment she was soaking wet and the fire was gone. Dumbledore had his finger pointing at the spot where, a few seconds ago, there were wild flames eating at the ceiling.

‘Not to worry, child, not to worry,’ said Ollivander a little shaken. He turned to thank Dumbledore and stumbled upon the unexpected sight of one Tom Riddle. ‘Mister Riddle! What’s brought you here, my dear boy? I trust your wand serves you well? Thirteen and a half inches, yew, phoenix feather, right? It seems it was only yesterday that you first walked into my shop…’ Tom greeted Ollivander politely but did not say another word; he was watching Maud with guarded curiosity. Ollivander, however, was too absorbed in the task at hand to pay him much attention after that. He was muttering to himself, looking at the boxes he had previously picked for his young client, wondering which one he should offer her next.

‘Hmm…Perhaps…Yes, this might just be it. Here, Elder, Dragon core, 12 inches, springy.’ He handed her the box much more carefully, as if one wrong move and it might burst into flames. Maud was reluctant to take it. She chanced a glance at Dumbledore who was now sitting on a chair, near Tom Riddle. _Who is that boy? Why is he here?_ She frowned at the unknown pale face and took the box with an audible intake of air. Her long fingers curled around the carved wood. She closed her eyes and she could feel the power pulsing through the carvings on the wand, traveling through her, running through her veins, entering her heart, flooding her lungs. She could feel the floor trembling, ever-so-slightly under her feet. She could sense the air caressing her skin, touching every object, every inch of wall on its way to her. And then the power increased and it burst out of the wand, invading the room, blasting the windows as it rushed in every direction, searching for more space to fill out. Maud’s eyes shot open.  She turned around to face the now shattered shop windows.

‘Sorry,’ whispered Maud mortified by what she’d done. Tom Riddle, however, was pleasantly surprised by her display of magic. He could find a use to her, perhaps. He looked at Dumbledore who fixed the windows with a flick of his hand, just as easily as he had extinguished the fire.

‘It’s alright, Maud. Nothing a little magic can’t fix. Go one, try another one.’ He reassured her with a smile and got up from his chair to inspect the book on Ollivander’s counter.

‘No worry, dear, no worry. Let me see…’ Ollivander abandoned the boxes on the table and went to the back of his store. He frowned at the shelves and returned empty handed. ‘Where was it…’ he muttered to himself. He returned to his ladder and climbed it once more, to the top most shelf. He retrieved a white, long, thin box, with one side yellowed by time.

‘Here it is.’ He returned holding the box carefully, his whole body movement suggesting a deep respect towards that particular wand. ‘I have had this for quite some time. I was starting to doubt its owner would ever set foot in my shop.’ He smiled at Maud and urged her to take the box. She obeyed, her fingertips tingling at the contact with the hard surface. She retrieved the wand from inside the box with shy movements. It was a bit longer than the others; ‘twelve and a quarter inches’, whispered Ollivander. The wood was a light brown, as if dipped in maple syrup, and had darker lines circling the entire wand, creating an intricate pattern. Maud raised the wand at eye-level and studied it. It was beautiful. She closed her eyes, her heart was beating slower and slower, until the sound of it faded away completely and all that was left was the soft murmur of the wand. It was singing a long-forgotten song of days that never happened, that could and never will be. It was calm, warm, ancient and new, sad and illuminating and it grew ever so loud, from a whisper to a choir of sounds. It reached beyond the walls of Ollivander’s shop, it passed Diagon Alley and it spread across the world, flooding every beating heart, every open ear, coursing through the veins of the Universe. It sang of so many things, of innocence, of madmen and darkness, of destruction, of hope and pain, of days gone-by and of times to come, of life and death. And as it did so, it brought along a distant smell of freshly baked pastries, cinnamon pancakes and warmth. It saddened Maud and, as she lowered her wand and opened her eyes, the song faded from the world and the warm breeze vanished.

‘Alder, phoenix feather, slightly springy.’ Ollivander’s hoarse voice woke them up.  Maud was looking disbelievingly at her wand. Dumbledore was looking at Maud with guarded surprise. Tom Riddle was puzzled, intrigued and annoyed for some unknown reason. He too was looking at Maud.

‘I believe, Miss Wulfric, that you’ve found your wand. Or, better said, she found you.’ Maud did not reply.

 ‘Excuse me, professor, but I must bid you good bye.’ Tom Riddle left the shop as fast as he could and did not look back.

‘Well, Maud, I think there is one more thing on that list, if memory serves me right. Good evening, Ollivander, nice seeing you again.’ He paid Ollivander, shook his hand warmly and ushered Maud out the door. She did not seem happy, on the contrary, the song had made her utterly miserable. She doubted she would ever hear something so haunting and so beautiful again.

‘Sir…What was that song?’ she whispered watching the movement of her shoes.

‘You.’ Said Dumbledore simply, taking her hand and guiding her through the crowd, seemingly unaffected by the events of the day. ‘Where are we going?’ asked Maud looking around her.

‘You do want an animal, don’t you?’ Dumbledore’s voice was even kinder than before and she felt even more like a small child being persuaded to stop pouting for no reason. The prospect of owning an animal did bring a shy smile on her lips.

They entered the now deserted shop where she had first stopped that evening. People were slowly returning to their homes as the sun sank behind tall buildings in the horizon, and it seemed they were the last shoppers for the day.

‘Good evening! What can I do for y’all on this fine day?’ said a plump woman behind the counter.

‘Good evening, lovely Madam. We are looking for a pet for my niece,’ answered Dumbledore most charmingly. Maud ventured through the cages, looking at all sorts of cats, rats, snakes or even dogs. There were also many owls, all looking different and not that appealing to her. She wasn’t that fond of snakes either, or rats for that matter. And cats seemed too independent and self-sufficient for her taste. The dogs were all strays and looked rather bored and inactive. They were all staring at her in tired anticipation. Just as she was beginning to lose her interest altogether, she arrived at an empty bird cage inhabited by a black egg with red and gold stains on it, as if someone had accidently dropped some paint on it.

‘What kind of egg is this one?’ asked Maud pointing at the cage.

‘Oh,’ said the plump woman ‘I was told it’s a Phoenix egg, Miss, but I think I got fooled. ‘Cause there ain’t no one who’d seen a Phoenix egg before, Miss. And if they had, I doubt it’s that stained black one over there. I don’t think it will hatch, too. See, I have this one from a traveller I met in Liverpool, five years ago. That birdie there ain’t seeing the light of day Miss.’ As soon as the plump woman finished her rant, Maud looked at Dumbledore. ‘Can I have this one?’ she asked. Dumbledore smiled and asked the woman how much she wanted for the egg. The woman was so surprised someone wanted to buy a “broken” egg that she sold it to them for a galleon, the cage included. This cheered Maud up greatly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sorting Ceremony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like it. Comments are welcomed; I would like to know if I screwed it up.

 

                                                                                                             *

That night, Maud was shown to one of the guest bedrooms, somewhere above the Great Hall. All her new acquisitions were there already. There was a sort of living room area, with two fireplaces, a couch and many comfy chairs, distributed around wooden tables. It was a rather large room, tall and decorated with paintings of wizards and witches; all eyeing her carefully. On a wall, near one of the largest windows, there was a bookcase packed with a variety of books, giving the place the air of a forgotten study. The far wall opened through an archway, which led to a staircase – presumably to the dormitories.

‘You will stay here for a couple of days, until the term starts, then you will move to one of the four Houses’ dormitories,’ said Dumbledore showing her the way, up the staircase. ‘So, I’ll be sorted then?’ asked Maud, opening the door he had indicated.

‘Yes. Headmaster Dippet thought it appropriate that way. You have already read, I presume, about the sorting ceremony and the four Houses?’

‘Yes, I have. But, wouldn’t it be odd to be the oldest person sorted? I mean… Wouldn’t people ask questions? What will I say?’ She was placing a handful of books on the desk near the window. The room was small and cosy, with a four-poster bed pushed between the two large windows and a wardrobe on the other side.

‘We’ll say you are a new student who has been to a private school up until now. Professor Merrythought, who teaches Defence against the Dark Arts, will meet with you tomorrow afternoon, in class 3 C to evaluate your abilities. I have left you a map of the castle on your desk, so you can find your way more easily. Depending on her say, you’ll either be placed in the sixth or seventh year, but I have no doubt you will make it into the latter,’ he smiled at her warmly. ‘If you can, go through some of the school books we have bought today. ‘He turned around to leave the room, but stopped in the doorway to say one more thing.

‘Breakfast will be served in the Great Hall.’ He smiled and turned yet again. Maud looked at the back of his head and remembered she had meant to ask him something else that entire evening. ‘Sir? Who was that boy, in Ollivander’s shop? Is he a student here?’ Dumbledore stopped in front of the staircase; he did not turn to face her.

‘That was Tom Riddle, a brilliant, albeit dangerous, seventh year. Best not to let yourself influenced by him, Maud.’ Dumbledore’s grave voice startled her. Now she was intrigued.

She closed the door and started unpacking, spending quite some time checking her new books. The Charms textbook had immediately become one of her favourites. She tried some of the spells in there and she was quite pleased with what had come out of her wand. She made a pillow fly over the bed and land gracefully on the floor. She dared not try any of the spells in the Defence against the Dark Arts book, for fear she might make something explode; they all looked quite… harmful. Best not to try them in a small room with windows that could shatter. She went through the Transfiguration book as well and even tried turning a quill into a pencil, but she did not pay attention to the entire spell and ended up igniting it. After that, she decided to just read them and not try any of the incantations, in case she might set something on fire again.

‘I think I lack some patience,’ whispered Maud to herself. She went in bed with the Defence against the Dark Arts book, but she only glanced at the pages for a few seconds before turning them. Sighing, she abandoned that too and threw it on the bedside table.

‘I hate being alone...’ she looked at the quiet egg sitting in its cage, on the desk and frowned. ‘I should’ve bought an owl; at least I wouldn’t have felt like an idiot talking to a bird that actually moved.’ She turned off the light and slipped under the blankets, curling into a ball. That young man’s face kept haunting her thoughts. There was something funny about him, as if he was hiding something underneath that pale, handsome face. He did, indeed, look dangerous, just as Dumbledore had warned, but for some reason Maud could not imagine fearing him. Or, at least, not while he wasn’t standing right there, in front of her. He kind of lost some of his scary quality when he couldn’t be in front of you, staring you down.  Anyway, she would rather go to sleep analysing a stranger, than thinking about her own situation. It was easier to handle questions without answers when they did not refer to you.  She closed her eyes and let sleep take her, praying she would not have any nightmares.

                                                                                                                    *

 

Maud woke up on the floor, tangled in her blanket, her eyes wet. She was clutching her knuckles and digging her nails into her palms. Her heart was hammering against her chest and her eyes stung. She wiped the tears from her cheeks, feeling empty, devoid of any warmth and chased by the shadow of a fear. Anger was swelling up in her. ‘I hate nightmares!’ she whispered with spite.

She got dressed quietly and then stuffed some books in her bag, took her wand and map from the desk and went to search for the Great Hall. She found it fairly quick, climbing down the large staircase and then turning right. The door to the Great Hall was huge and, had it not been wide open, Maud suspected she wouldn’t have managed to open it an inch. She entered the room watching her feet move to the nearest table. Only when she was seated and confident she could not trip and make a fool of herself in front of- what she felt had to be- the eyes of the teachers, she dared look up and inspect the place.

The Great Hall was everything Hogwarts. A history had said it would be; a vast room, with floating candles lighting an enchanted ceiling, imitating the sky. There were four, long, wooden tables placed parallel one to another, guarded by a fifth one which stood at the far end of the room; and that was where all the professors were seated. Maud felt their eyes settling on her, studying her, than moving back to the food in front of them. She looked up at them and saw professor Dumbledore smiling reassuringly to her. She smiled back.

Breakfast was just as delicious as the previous one, not that Maud had any time to think about it. She ate as fast as she could and then ran out of the Great Hall to check the castle. It was huge. And even with Dumbledore’s excellent map, she still nearly got lost twice. There were corridors upon long corridors, staircases after staircases- and moving on top of that!-, and chambers and rooms and hallways, connected to each other through a series of intricate passageways and tunnels. It made her feel dizzy.

She loved the towers, especially the Astronomy one; it had a magnificent view over the castle grounds, but she hated the dungeons. They were damp and poorly lit and she could swear, on a few occasions, she had felt herself being watched. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand and her skin prickle.

She was so engrossed in exploring the castle that she nearly forgot about her appointment with Professor Merrythought. She had to run to get to Class 3C on time, but she made it.

‘So, you’re here,’ said Professor Merrythought, eyes twinkling and all. She was a tall, old woman and she carried herself with an almost palpable dignity, her head held high. She seemed strong and confident, but also warm and kind-hearted. Her eyes were a light brown and moved constantly, never fixing themselves on an object or a person for more than a few seconds. She was neither thin nor fat and the wrinkles on her face did not steal any of her vitality. She looked full of life, yet there was a hint of tiredness in her mouth. Galatea Merrythought seemed like an interesting woman.

 She gestured for Maud to take a seat in front of her.

‘Albus told me all about you and your…odd parents. So you’ve never actually been properly taught magic, ey?’ Maud shook her head, not daring to say a word. She was terrible at saying lies, even if they weren’t harming anyone.

‘Well, no worries, Miss Wulfric. We will soon fix that. Dumbledore thinks you will fit just fine as a seventh year, so I will go with you through the basics of…well, magic, and see how you’re catching up. If, after today, I think you fit for a seventh year, I will let Albus put you up-to-date with the rest and prepare you himself for the start of term. Understood?’ Maud nodded once more. She did not see how she could learn the basics of 6 years in one afternoon, or why Dumbledore had so much faith in her abilities. However, Professor Merrythought spoke with such a voice, it exuded efficiency, and Maud dare not contradict her, or Dumbledore’s reasoning for that matter.

The rest of the afternoon, Professor Merrythought wrote down on the blackboard spells and incantations, which she then produced as an example for Maud. Maud, then, had to do the spell herself a few times, before Merrythought was satisfied. However, there was something familiar about those spells and she had no problems with them after trying a few times. She wouldn’t have known the wand movements or the incantations, had the professor not written them down beforehand, but once she had seen how they were done, it was easy. It was almost as if there were echoes of those spells buried somewhere, in the back of her mind. However, when she reached some of the incantations taught in the sixth year, things changed. Especially when it came to Defence against the Dark Arts; charms had been relatively easy. But things were different with Professor Merrythought’s subject. Maud kept putting too much power into the spell and things got blown up, or shattered.

‘I don’t understand. You’ve done brilliantly up until now. It’s almost as if you have done it before. But when it comes to duelling spells, you simply lash out unnecessarily. What are you afraid of? No one here’s actually attacking you.’ Professor Merrythought had written down some combat spells on the blackboard and they were now having a go at a duel. The woman had to constantly deflect the spells, which then exploded in various parts of the classroom. It was enough for Maud to whisper _Stupefy_ and a blazing red light would go flying across the room, bouncing off of Merrythought’s shield and shattering a desk or a chair in some distant corner.

‘Sorry!’ cried Maud ashamed. ‘I don’t know how I do it…’ She was desperate. She wasn’t even thinking about the force of the spell, she was simply muttering the word, waving the wand in a specific manner and … _BOOM._ Merrythought frowned. _Maybe I should change tactics,_ thought the woman. She didn’t say anything, not a word of warning or an incantation, but, suddenly, a blue light burst out of her wand. Maud widened her eyes in surprise and flicked her wand, causing the light to vanish. Merrythought, however, did not stop there. She was sending spell after wordless spell, holding little back, cornering the girl. It was a quiet fight. No one was muttering a single incantation. Maud was deflecting curse after curse, multi-coloured lights and smoke filling the room. After a few minutes, the girl was sweating and her eyes were sparkling with annoyance. She waved her wand upwards and sent Professor Merrythought flying on top of a pile of books. She gasped in pure horror and ran towards the woman, who was now trying to get back on her feet.

‘I…I’m so sorry, Professor. I didn’t mean to. Well I did, but I don’t...know. I didn’t mean to harm you.’ Maud helped the Professor back on her feet, her face was blood red.

‘I think Dumbledore might have left out something. There is no possible way you have never performed such magic until today. I don’t know what he and you are hiding from me, but there was no point in me testing your abilities,’ she was panting. ‘You are clearly a seventh year, and a bloody talented one at that. All you needed was to be reminded of the wand movements and incantations. ‘The woman eyed Maud with a mixture of suspicion and admiration, deep down, she couldn’t wait to teach her more. However, there was a lingering sensation in her heart, that Miss Wulfric knew more than she let on. Professor Merrythought did not understand Dumbledore’s reasoning. What was the point in that afternoon? If a bit of reminding was all the girl had required, then why not do it himself? And still, of what she had seen that day, the woman was certain Maud didn’t even need reminding. The girl was a natural at non-verbal magic; of what she had seen her do, Maud would have had no problem managing without actually knowing the incantations.

Merrythought dismissed the girl without another word. She shivered at the sight of her walking away. She was just like Albus had been ever since his first year at Hogwarts, just like Tom Riddle was now; capable of great magic. However, she was in serious need of some discipline.

 

                                                                                                            *

Dumbledore had been very pleased by what Professor Merrythought had told him. The following days, he had taken it upon himself to prepare Maud for the start of term. After a few lessons in Transfiguration, the girl had become fascinated with the subject; it now numbered amongst her favourites. She still had problems with Defence against the Dark Arts. She was constantly oscillating between being too afraid to use her magic, and forgetting to contain her power when casting spells. It was either not enough, or too much. And it confused Dumbledore, because he believed she could do wonders in a duel, especially with her inclination towards non-verbal casting. However, her fear prevented her from being herself at that particular subject and it remained that way until the term started.

Oh the day of the Feast, Maud had been terrified. She had a feeling she hated being in a crowd, and she begged Dumbledore to sort her in Dippet’s office.

‘Nonsense, my dear. There is nothing for you to fear.  It will only take a few moments and then all will be over, ‘Dumbledore had said. But he had been wrong. She was the last to be sorted, and the minute Dumbledore had called her name, she could feel every single pair of eyes turn to her. It was a wonder she managed not to fall down the small flight of stairs. Once she had been seated on the stool, things did not get easier for her. She felt silly to close her eyes, so she had to stare at the Hall. The Great Hall. And how great it was, indeed! A multitude of faces stared right back at her. She took a deep breath, and reprimanded herself mentally. _You will not be intimidated by an ocean of nameless faces! Not nameless, not all of them. Look, it’s Tom Riddle. Oh, great. Now I can be stared down at from across the Hall, while literally being seated above everybody else. Why is he frowning at me? Does he want to make a hole in my face? What a bully!..an insufferably.. handsome bully.. I’ll stare right back at you. There!_ And while she was having that childish rant inside her head, Dumbledore put the Sorting Hat on her head and her train of thoughts was interrupted by a booming voice.

_‘And what do we have hear? You don’t know? Well, that’s a first. Shall I tell you? You know, I can sense everything. No, not names, I do not see your name. My dear, don’t you even know your own name? Isn’t it Maud Wulfric? Oh, well… never you mind. Let’s see. Where shall I put you? I see power, yesss. And a guarded desire for knowledge. Hmm, oh dear, you don’t seem to know what you want. Do you, or do you not want to know? Hmm, you have determination and courage, even when afraid, and a kind, pure heart. Too pure. And so innocent in your emotions, you could be a raging Slytherin... Hmm, or a chivalrous Gryffindor. You are anything but a Hufflepuff, but you could just as well go to Ravenclaw. And yet, I don’t see you there. Nooo.’_

The voice kept ranting for several more minutes, analysing her. Maud, in the meantime, kept staring at Tom Riddle who did not, even for a second break eye contact. She imagined she could feel his mind pressed against hers.

_‘You are a contradiction, my dear. Oh, this is so exciting! Where do you want to be? Ey? D’you know, you resemble so much two wizards I sorted some time ago. Very special wizards. You could go down either of their paths. Do you want to choose it? Or should we leave it to faith? Faith hmm…Alright. If that’s what you want.’_

‘GRYFFINDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOR!’ cried the ragged voice of the Sorting Hat. The Gryffindor table cheered up, crying enthusiastically and applauding. Tom broke eye contact, seemingly bored. Maud got up from the stool, looked confused at Dumbledore, who smiled at her, gesturing towards the cheerful table. She glanced back at Tom, who was now staring into his plate.

She frowned in a mixture of annoyance and confusion and went to the Gryffindor table where people were pushing one another to make her room. She smiled politely and thanked, taking her seat between a seventh and a fourth year. Everyone was talking to everyone, yelling, laughing, whispering, cheering, eating and drinking. The entire Hall was intoxicated by the celebration of a new year.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I knew what everyone who read my story thought of it. Then again, knowing that you actually bother to read it is reward enough in itself, I presume. Thank you for reading ! Hope you liked this chapter.

*

‘So how come you’ve never been to Hogwarts before?’ asked a freckled boy from across the table.  
‘Uhm… my parents are-‘started Maud. ‘I mean, my mum couldn’t wait to see me gone. The day I got my letter, she had already packed my bags.’ The boy laughed, thoroughly amused by his own story. He was battling with a sausage, trying to cut it into as many pieces as possible, while making sure he did not stain his robes. He seemed to be of average height, quite skinny, with blonde hair and grey eyes, having the general appearance of a bleached moving picture. Maud smiled in what she hoped looked like amusement, but did not bother to answer to him anymore, for she was already being asked the same question by an energetic girl next to her.  
‘My parents are…a bit odd,’ she managed to get it out, before anyone got any other chance to interrupt her. She had repeated that sentence so many times that evening that she was actually starting to believe in it. Everyone around her seemed curious about her and her late arrival at Hogwarts. They were asking questions she didn’t know how to answer, in between mouthfuls of baked potatoes and sausages. Sometimes, Maud got the impression they weren’t even listening to her afterwards, it was just some kind of ritual at meal time, apparently. Or, they were simply undecided whether or not she was more deserving of their attention than the plate in front of them.  
But that wasn’t the worst part of the evening, by far. On some occasions, people having a debate would suddenly, and with no warning, require her opinion on the matter at hand, a matter which, no doubt, had to do with the magical world.  
‘Jesus! Do you hear yourself? Cornelius Ashworth? The greatest Seeker in Quidditch history? No bloody way! You! Yes, you, over there. Can you hear this man? What do you think?’ Maud widened her eyes, searching furiously in her head for the right answer. ‘Err, I don’t know…’ This was clearly not the one, seeing as both of them stared at her incredulously.  
‘Come on!’ they urged. ‘You must have a favourite Seeker. Who is it?’ Maud stared at the pair, not knowing what to say. Panicking, she intentionally knocked down her empty goblet, which rolled under the table after producing a loud clang. People at the table turned their heads to the unwelcomed, noisy interruption, and she dug her head underneath the table, pretending to search for it. She went as far as to bend her whole body underneath, claiming she could not see the goblet.  
Some of them glanced at the now empty seat and shrugged, more interested in the dessert that had just appeared on golden plates in front of them. ‘Come on, Arthur. Let’s not fight on our first day back, ey? It’s our last year here, after all. Let’s leave the Quidditch talk for later.’ The fan of Cornelius Ashworth nudged his friend, who was still looking at Maud’s empty seat. He did not wait for his friend’s reply and stuffed his plate with some fruit tart and chocolate cake. Arthur stared a few more seconds, after which he, too, began to eat.  
Maud sighed, crouching between two sets of feet. She had her goblet in one hand and was staring at the long procession of shoes which surrounded her. She wondered briefly whether it was possible for her to crawl, avoiding all those feet, and get out from under the table at its far end, the one near the entrance to the Great Hall. But what will they think of me? I just want to get in bed and sleep! I want to get out of this mess! She nearly screamed in frustration. How did she end up in that situation, in that place? She tried to get up, but her head collided with the unwelcomed, hard surface of old wood. Cursing herself, she slithered out of her uncomfortable hiding place and smiled as innocently as possible. Fortunately, everybody at the table was too engrossed in delighting themselves with the savoury pies, tarts, puddings and what not, so much that they didn’t even notice the shaking of the table. Everybody, except one. The boy called Arthur was trying to stiffen a laugh.  
‘Are you OK? For a moment there I thought you lost yourself on your way, ‘he said grinning. Maud smiled awkwardly and stood up. ‘Yeah, but I think I’ll turn in. Had a bit of a … bumpy ride.’  
‘If you say so,’ he replied laughing. ‘The name’s Arthur, by the way.’ He grinned once more then turned his head to face his friend. He ran his fingers through his brown, messy hair, listening carefully to the conversation the fan of Cornelius Ashworth had initiated with the girl next to him.  
Maud got up from the table, ignoring the tantalising smells, and headed for the entrance. She was searching the pockets of her robes, doing her best not to look up to the other tables. So many eyes around here, she sighed, feeling herself being watched, but too tired to worry about falling over and making a fool of herself. She found her map of Hogwarts, just as she was reaching the entrance. Once in the hallway, she studied it, searching for the fastest route to the Gryffindor common room.  
Tom Riddle had glanced at the Gryffindor table most of the evening, ignoring all those who sought his attention. They were not from his circle anyway for they knew better than to advertise themselves in front of Dumbledore. No, those who bothered him during the feast were mostly attention-seeking Slytherins, those who could make themselves noticed only by inhabiting the shadows of the great. So he enjoyed his Hogwarts meal, while letting himself be entertained by that odd girl, Maud Wulfric, and ignoring everybody else. He wanted to know what her connection to Dumbledore was and if she might be of use to him. Therefore, he decided to watch her carefully. The old man had said, outside Ollivander’s, that she was his niece and this was to be her first and, apparently, last year at Hogwarts, seeing as she had been introduced to the Great Hall as a special seventh year. But they both knew that was a blatant lie. She was something else and Tom Riddle would find out.  
He studied her as she climbed the stairs to the stool, sensing her trembling heart. What was she so afraid of? As soon as she met his gaze, however, the trouble in her eyes vanished and was replaced by a stern resolution, to not be intimidated. He frowned and pushed his mind further, reaching for hers, demanding access. He tried forcing his way through her eyes, inside her thoughts, something he had attempted before on someone while they were sorted. But she did not budge. If anything, her resistance increased, almost as if she was daring him to try harder, provoking him. And he would have accepted that challenge, had it not been for the cackling voice of the Sorting Hat, bellowing at them a mighty Gryffindooooooooooooooor! Tom turned his head in annoyance, fixing his gaze on the empty plate in front of him. After a few moments, when he glanced back up, she was no longer on the stool, but at the Gryffindor table, sliding on her seat, between two vacant-looking students.  
Tom kept his gaze on her in between bites, observing her with mild interest. He was the small child eyeing a shiny new toy which belonged to someone else, and he was going to take it away. When Maud pretended to accidentally drop her goblet in order to hide under the table from the social interactions of the evening, he let a small, smug smile form on his lips. She had no tact, that girl. And from the looks of it, she could not even tell a lie, not even one Dumbledore had concocted for her.  
Just as he was starting to get bored with her, he caught her getting up and leaving the Hall, presumably to her common room. Well, this should be most…entertaining. Tom gracefully rose from his seat, his Head Boy badge catching the light and flickering joyously on his dark robes, and, with a few soundless steps, reached the empty hallway. Somewhere above his head, the hurried footsteps of an unsuspecting girl were echoing down the staircase.

‘Brilliant. Just. Brilliant.’  
Maud was staring at the wall full of moving paintings, her eyes running from one end to the other. She was in the right place, according to Dumbledore’s map. So where was the entrance to the Gryffindor common room?  
‘Excuse me… Sir?’ she tried asking the nearest portrait. It depicted a middle-aged man, slouched in an armchair, an arm nearly touching the exotic carpet on the floor, the other one wrapped around a violin resting on his chest. The man had his eyes closed and was breathing heavily. She tried another portrait, of a woman hiding behind a fan, blinking furiously.  
‘Excuse me, Madam. I do not mean to intrude…’ started Maud, but the woman simply turned her head facing the other way, ignoring her completely. The other paintings depicting people were also in a deep sleep and did not respond to Maud, regardless of how politely she addressed them.  
‘This is just rude!’ she cried in frustration, frowning at the wall. She kept staring at it, awaiting some kind of reaction, from the stone or the portraits, but none came. The paintings remained in a feigned deep sleep, while the wall retained its coldness and immobility.  
‘Why won’t you help me?!?!?’ Maud yelled at the wall, launching herself at it, kicking it with all the force she could muster. The stone gave a deep grumble and shook in annoyance at the attack, but did not move an inch. Resigned and without any more energy left, Maud let herself slid against the hard surface, onto the cold floor. Her hands aching, she closed he eyes and nearly fell asleep right then and there.  
‘I would’ve thought Dumbledore had told you there is no sleeping in the corridors at Hogwarts,’ the smooth voice slithered down the icy stone and crawled up her arms, to her ears, forcing her eyes open. Tom Riddle was standing in front of her, smirking.  
Maud got up, rubbed her eyes with her bruised hands and glanced at the wall behind her. ‘They were ignoring me.’  
‘I see. Well, it is always best to sleep your way out of being ignored, paintings usually respond to that,’ said Tom, not moving an inch out of her way, voice dripping with sarcasm. It was quite amusing. She looked just like a pet. Maybe, if she proved to be worthy, he would steal her from Dumbledore.  
‘I figured that much myself, thank you. Actually, I attacked the wall. He was stubborn, too.’ Maud was staring grudgingly at the thing in question, searching for a weak spot to charge at it once more. Tom laughed. It was a charming, deep sound and it reverberated off the walls, filling the corridor, ringing in her ears.  
‘What’s so funny?’ snapped Maud. ‘Are you going to help me, or what?’  
‘To do what?’ replied Tom raising an eyebrow at her. He was carrying himself in such a manner, it exuded superiority, and it made Maud want to roll her eyes at him. Which she did. ‘To open this wall!’ She wanted to add a silly, but that word didn’t quite fit with him. He looked at her in that way adults often do when dealing with petulant children.  
‘Whatever for, Miss?’ He said it as polite as possible, but his tone had an edge to it, as though he was growing more and more impatient with her. Maud heard it and she simply lashed out, putting her hands up in pure desperation. ‘I just want to go to bed! The map says this is where the Gryffindor common room is, but I don’t see it. And I’ll be damned if I’ll go back down there, with all those people I don’t know to find some help. So you either do something, Mister Head Boy, or I will burn this wall down to find a warm cosy bed!’ She looked up at him, trying to will him with her eyes into helping her. Tom stared back at her, a perfectly composed mask. Underneath it, however, he was battling with himself. She intrigued and annoyed him at the same time. She did not seem to fear him even in the slightest and there was a part in him that wanted to teach her a lesson. At the same time, he found her ignorance amusing and, in a way, refreshing. He had become so used to people respecting or fearing him that he had forgotten what it felt like, having someone unaware of the damage he could cause to them, thread that slippery slope.  
Tom smirked yet again and, with the lightest of steps, walked to the portrait of the woman hiding behind her fan. He had that grace only deadly predators have when circling their prey.  
‘Good evening, dear Lady. Forgive me for bothering you at this late hour,’ he started, charming the Pink Lady into abandoning her fan.  
‘Password?’ she said haughtily.  
‘Sherbet lemon,’ Tom whispered seductively, loud enough for Maud to hear, however. The Pink Lady gave a pleased nod, fluttering her eyelashes at Tom, trying to be seductive herself.  
The painting swayed itself open and Maud could see the scarlet and golden common room of Gryffindor House. She turned to Tom and smiled brilliantly.  
‘Thank you!’ And without another word, she disappeared into the brightly lit room, just as tired voices were starting to echo down the stairs. Tom turned on his heels and vanished in a soundless swirl of robes, behind a corner. 

Maud turned around to see the painting close behind her. The common room was quiet, a deserted celebration of scarlet and gold lit by a cheerful fire. It looked warm and welcoming, from the fireplace to the comfortable armchairs and sofas. She stood there, in the middle of the chamber, admiring it all, imagining all the great moments and jolly people that room had seen and will see. It was full of memories, just as a home should be. It had a reassuring air, like Dumbledore’s smile, giving away a sense of safety. So why did she feel sad? Why did she feel unprotected and vulnerable? And above all, why did she feel so lost? Why couldn’t she just assume the memories residing within that beautifully decorated common room and be a part of the jolly crowd? Believe in the lies Dumbledore has taught you. Make yourself at home. You don’t have any other place to go to.  
She closed her eyes and called up the events of the past few days, her only memories and a beacon of hope in that black sea of oblivion. And they came to life surrounding her, dancing lights flickering from one corner to the other, jumping from armchair to armchair, losing themselves in the coldness of the castle walls. But they were not solid figures, every event, every memory she had of Hogwarts lacked in substance. Everything lacked. There wasn’t a single flicker of raw, pure life. She was so far from a reality herself, so why would her memories be any different? She could see it now, the reason behind her constant hiding and snapping at walls and Tom Riddle. She was too scared to admit to the fact that she did not know.  
‘I’m all alone… And I don’t even have myself,’ muttered Maud opening her eyes to the cheerful, yet empty common room. An entire castle could not contain the pain in her voice as she whispered those words.  
The Fat Lady’s painting opened with a loud creak and in came a sea of Gryffindors, all tired but in high spirits.  
‘Finally! I don’t know where my bedroom is,’ said Maud laughing at a couple of familiar faces, scratching her head awkwardly. She felt so void inside that putting up a fake smile felt almost right. The cheerful sea of black robes carried her towards the stairs, a couple of girls her year pushing her towards their dormitories.  
Maud took the last bed, the one near the window nobody seemed to want because of the draft. Some of the girls in her dormitories started telling jokes and silly stories, obviously continuing the merriment provoked by the Feast. She laughed when everybody laughed and she gasped when everybody gasped. Whenever someone asked her opinion on a previously discussed matter, she would agree with the one who had answered before her. She merely mimicked the reactions of others, but that seemed enough to satisfy any curiosities regarding her person for the time being. In the meantime, she prepared for sleep, making her bed and installing the cage with the egg on the windowsill.  
When Maud slipped under her covers the girls stopped asking her questions, figuring she was tired and still unaccustomed to life at Hogwarts. They did their best to continue their chat while not disturbing her by lowering their voices to a whisper. Maud smiled at the window, touched by that kind gesture, a pang in her heart. She truly wished she could join them, but she had no stories to tell and knew no jokes. She fell asleep thinking of Dumbledore’s promise to sort her out. Maud only hoped that he kept his promises…


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like it. Comments are welcomed.

                                                                                V

 

 

There are days when everything is possible. Days when, if you put your mind to it, you can achieve even the most far-fetched dreams a madman could conjure in his mind. Days when each speck of dust and every tile of stone is tuned to the same frequencies as the clouds in the sky. Days to make belief and to dare…

This was not one of those days. A storm was gathering behind dark clouds, grumbling at the world from the farthest corner of the Universe, warning creatures to guard their lives. It was that kind of weather which reeks of ancient times, when men feared the lightning and the thunder and cowered in the shadows. It was Tom Riddle’s kind of weather.

The wind had started howling during the night, stealing leaves and flowers from trees and fields, scratching at the windows, demanding access.  After a couple of hours, lightnings and thunders had followed, bringing with them the rain.

Maud had woken up early in the morning, startled by a particularly loud thunder. She leaped from her bed, looking around the room confused. The other girls were still asleep after the Feast’s late night. She dressed quietly, stuffed her books, quills and parchment into her bag and headed towards the Great Hall for an early breakfast.

She didn’t like at all sharing a dormitory, even if it was with just three other girls. She did not feel comfortable hearing someone’s ragged breathing near her in the middle of the night. The girls with whom she shared the room were quite lovely, but that feeling of uneasiness persisted in Maud. They were all seventh years and they knew each other since their first day at Hogwarts. And regardless of how well they behaved towards Maud, she would always remain the outsider. They were: Jane Ashby, Clarissa Dodge and Bells McCormack – short for Belladonna- and they completed one another perfectly. Jane was the shy, kind and optimistic one, sometimes passing as purely naïve and, other times, as a bit slow, to put it mildly. Clarissa was the quiet, pragmatic one, very down to earth and somewhat snobbish due to her family’s pureblood status. While these two were, despite some of their flaws, both agreeable, Bells McCormack was the truly interesting one. She was a combination of Jane’s kindness and Clarissa’s haughtiness with a dash of charisma, beauty and spontaneity which made her the most loved girl in the Gryffindor House. Maud liked the three of them in that they were always kind to her, but, if given the choice, she would not have spent more than six seconds with them. They were normal, happy teenagers with wonderful lives ahead of them and that, in Maud’s opinion, made them quite boring. Yes, they were loveable and charming and sociable, but they lacked a certain spark to make them stand out some other way than through the group they formed.

Generally speaking, there were roughly two types of Gryffindor girls: the sociable, outgoing type -prone to falling victims to their own spontaneity- and the more settled, studious type or, better said, focused. Maud preferred the latter, of which there was no specimen in her dormitory. The focused Gryffindor girl type was the one that took a certain path and stuck with it, one way or the other. They were the ones mad about Quidditch, who either played it or knew all about it and enjoyed it thoroughly. There were the more studious type, who excelled in one or two subjects –those were the ones that usually ensured their House had enough points to be in the lead in the House coup-. And then, there were the ones focused on having a great time and making the most out of the Hogwarts year, who didn’t have a clear vision of their future paths. Those were the truly joyous ones, finding something amusing in almost every activity, although it almost never implied studying. Maud liked that type and she regretted not being in the same dormitory as them, however, at the same time, she feared she might have been too boring for them had they shared a bedroom.

There was hardly anyone in the Great Hall at half past six in the morning and Maud sat at an almost empty Gryffindor table, glancing around the immense room. The ceiling was a mixture of darkness and light, enchanted clouds gathering ominously above her head. The staff table was also quite deserted. Master Dippet had not yet come down for breakfast and neither had half of the staff. There was Oog, the gamekeeper, an old yet strong looking man, Professor Slughorn, who Maud found out last night taught Potions, a few other witches and Professor Merrythougt, all sitting quietly and eating. Maud was wondering where was Professor Dumbledore –he stroke her as an early riser- when the man himself appeared behind her and tapped her shoulder lightly.

‘Professor!’ gasped Maud in surprise.

‘Good morning, Maud, glad to see you up and ready for the day so early in the morning,’ said Dumbledore extending her a piece of parchment. It was her timetable. ‘Did you enjoy yourself at the feast?’ He was smiling at her with kindness, a knowing twinkle in his eyes. He had seen her hiding under the table to avoid conversation.

‘I’m not really good at… making conversation with people to whom I have to lie,’ she admitted, her cheeks assuming the colour of cherries. She buried her face in the timetable, pretending to study it carefully. Dumbledore bended over to her gently putting his hand on the top of her head.

‘Imagine you are telling a story to the eager ears of a group of children,’ he whispered. ‘Try and make yourself at home while I try and find some answers for you, Maud. You will find Hogwarts is a most welcoming place and a home for all those who have come a great way. ‘

Maud looked up at him, her eyes a miserable shade of unhappiness and loneliness. Dumbledore’s eyes saddened at the sight, but there was nothing he could do. It was up to Maud to make the best out of her experience at Hogwarts, memories or not.

‘Try. You will be surprised,’ he smiled at her and turned towards the other end of the table where a young first year was waiting for his timetable. Maud glanced back at the piece of parchment. Her first two classes were Potions, followed by Defence against the Dark Arts and, later in the afternoon, Transfiguration, all with Slytherin.  She looked up from her timetable to see Tom Riddle on the other side of the Hall, consulting a similar piece of parchment. His eyes wandered from his schedule to the Gryffindor table and locked with hers, his lips twitching in a smirk. Maud frowned at him and broke eye contact, intent on making the most of her breakfast, if not her entire stay at Hogwarts.

She was filling her goblet with orange juice when a loud thunder made her yelp and drop the pitcher, spilling the liquid all over the table. The entire Hall was staring at her, making her blush in embarrassment. Apparently she was the only child in that room. She produced her wand from the pocket of her robes and waved it at the liquid, making it vanish.

Tom Riddle had his eyebrows a millimetre higher than normal, staring in disbelief at Maud. How was it that a girl scared of thunders had enough skill to perform non-verbal magic? He chanced a glance at Dumbledore, whose eyes were wandering from Maud to him and back to her again. Tom ground his teeth at the scene. I will find out what’s going on here.

Maud noticed him staring at her again. She bit her lip, doubt filling her eyes as they were roving around the Great Hall. She picked her bag and walked towards the Slytherin table with large steps, as if trying to cover as much ground as possible before someone could notice her.

Tom had returned to his plate, eating slowly, his mind lost in thoughts. It was one of the reasons he came down so early to have breakfast. This way, he could think and eat in peace, without having to maintain pleasantries with anyone. He sought no other company other than his own in the mornings.

He was trying to resume his routine – so annoyingly interrupted by the pitcher incident- when the sound of someone sitting opposite him at the table destroyed any possibility of that happening.

‘Why do you always stare or frown at me?’ asked Maud dropping her bag on the bench. She had decided it was time to take Dumbledore’s advice and try.

‘Excuse me?’ said Tom staring at her disbelievingly.

‘See? There you go again,’ she reacted pointing at the general area of his head. ‘And good morning by the way,’ she beamed at him.

‘What are you doing here?’ He kept staring into her eyes, trying to see behind the darkness of her irises, into her mind, into her soul, searching for a motif, for an answer. This was all rather new to him. No one had ever beamed at him that way, one icy look from his part and even the brightest of intentions would fade away, quickly replaced by at least a shadow of fear. Was she stupid or simply dangerously reckless?

‘I’m making friends,’ she answered softly, innocence pouring from her eyes. It made him want to take them out. Nevertheless, he supressed his hostility, maintaining a mask of cool politeness.

‘I believe that is a dangerous line you are threading, a Gryffindor befriending a Slytherin.’ His smooth voice was accompanied by a look only a poisonous snake could have when stalking a small, vulnerable kitten. Was that Dumbledore’s plan? To lure him out by throwing a friendly Gryffindor at him? Maud’s now shy smile was slowly fading from her lips.

‘I know,’ she said, her eyes darkening by the minute with an invisible weight. What was with those mood swings?

‘I just…well, never mind. Have a nice breakfast.’ She stood up from her seat, ready to leave. ‘Just don’t stare at me, ok? It makes me feel like an accident waiting to happen, one from which people can’t look away.’ 

Maud gave him a small wave and walked away, passing a few Slytherins that eyed her with disgust.  What was she thinking? Making friends with the one person Dumbledore had said to stay away from? Was she one of those people who had a knack for getting themselves into trouble by disobeying others? He just seemed like the kind who doesn’t ask stupid questions regarding family or childhood or favourite colours. I don’t know my favourite colour, all right? I don’t know what I prefer to eat or do. I have no recollection of preferring or loving anything. I just…don’t know.

The Great Hall was now filled with students eating and chatting loudly. Maud had no intention of joining them so she headed for the stairs, consulting the map on her way. She had a sad look on her face as she was unfolding the piece of parchment.

‘Potions…that means dungeons.’ She was following a route with her finger on the map when someone puffed at her mockingly.

‘Speaking to ourselves, are we?’ smirked Tom leaning over her head to glance at the map. Maud looked up at his face, her eyes widening. It was only then that she realised how tall he was, her head reaching just barely over his shoulders.

‘That route is bound to get you lost,’ he said following the trail of her finger with his eyes. ‘Come,’ he commanded her gesturing with his hand.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Maud confused, climbing down the stairs with him. ‘Well, we both have Potions and you obviously do not know your way around the castle. Now, what kind of a Head Boy would I be if I let you be late for your class because you had lost yourself on your way?’ His voice was a mixture of sweetness and mockery. Nevertheless, she was glad he was taking her to the dungeons, because he was probably right about her getting lost on the way. The dungeons had given her a chilly feeling from day one which made it difficult for her to concentrate on reading the map.

‘Thank you,’ she said smiling at him. ‘I am merely doing my duties, Miss,’ replied Tom with an air of superiority. He smirked but did not turn to look at her. As soon as he had seen her leave the Slytherin table he decided to take advantage of her reckless willingness to befriend someone as dangerous as him. It would prove easier that way to gain her trust and figure out what Dumbledore was planning. One way or the other, he would get inside her mind and discover whatever it was she and the old man were keeping to themselves. At least that was what he was telling himself.  Because deep down, if he dared search there, he would have come to the conclusion that there is no logical explanation for his decision. He simply felt he had to get up and follow her. And if Tom Riddle were to acknowledge that, for even a split second, something inside of him would surely crumble. So he followed Maud for the reason he had imagined and helped her, because of that same unknown to him urge that came from deep within him. And he teased her and kept his aura of superiority to maintain the idea of him being in control of everything, in a world where such a thing was impossible.

‘What’s it like?’ asked Maud.

‘What’s what like?’ replied Tom.

‘Being a Slytherin.’

Tom laughed. ‘What kind of question is that?’

‘It’s a question,’ shrugged Maud. ‘Well then, what’s it like being a Gryffindor?’ asked Tom, mimicking her tone.  Maud thought about it for a few seconds as they turned left on a corridor.

‘You’re right,’ she said eventually. ‘It’s a silly question.’

‘Then why ask?’ said Tom, looking down at her.

‘I was trying to make light conversation. You’re not exactly talkative.’

‘Last time I checked, you had the habit of hiding underneath tables to avoid conversation,’ replied Tom smirking at her.

‘Well that depends on the conversation. Do you intend to be boring?’

He smirked yet again. ‘Oh, you…’ He was about to say she had absolutely no idea what he was, but the door in front of them opened with a loud screeching noise and Professor Slughorn popped his head out.

‘Ah, Tom, my boy! Come inside, come. And I see you’ve escorted our dear new student, Miss Wulfric. Dumbledore, that man! Never told me he had a niece...’ Professor Slughorn urged them through the door, into the empty classroom. ‘And a skilled one at that. Professor Merrythought told me of how you managed to cast non-verbal spells whilst duelling. Impressive, Miss Wulfric, impressive. Let’s see if you are as talented at Potions, eh?’ Tom saw Maud blush from the corner of his eye. He found what the Professor had said very interesting.

‘I’ve never practiced Potions before, Professor,’ confessed Maud, looking ashamed at her shoes. ‘Not to worry, dear. I’m sure you’ll do just fine. Just sit with Tom for the time being, he’ll help you if you need it. He’s my best student.’ Maud was somehow not at all surprised. Someone as smug as Tom must have their reasons for behaving in such a manner. She just hoped there will be no occasion for him to laugh at her. There was no telling how bad she might be at Potions.

Tom seated himself at one of the front desks where a medium sized black cauldron was waiting to be filled with dubious looking ingredients. On the blackboard there were already written the instructions for Amortentia. Maud remembered reading about that potion the night she returned from Diagon Alley and from what she could make of the instructions, it seemed a pretty difficult one to brew.  She sat down on the chair next to Tom and deposited her bag under the desk. She chanced a glance at him but he was staring blankly out the window. Outside, rain was still pouring and on a few occasions Maud could hear the grumbling of some distant thunders. She shifted in her chair, worrying about the potion.

The sound of hurried steps was coming down the corridor, accompanied by the chatter of gryffindors and slytherins. They entered the classroom bringing with them the murmur of voices, each pair of eyes stopping briefly on the two students sitting at one of the front desks. Tom could hear jealous whispers coming from some of the girls who were, undoubtedly, glaring at Maud.

‘Now, now, everyone, settle down,’ said Professor Slughorn with a kind smile on his lips. ‘Today, we will make one of the most dangerous potions in the world: Amortentia.’ A few girls started giggling.

‘Who can tell me the properties of Amortentia? Yes, Miss Harper?’

‘It is one of the strongest love potions known to men,’ answered a small voice at the back of the classroom.

‘Yes indeed, Miss Harper. Five points to Gryffindor,’ replied Slughorn. ‘Does anyone want to add something to what Miss Harper has just said? Miss Wulfric?’ Maud had raised a timid hand. ‘Hector Dagworth-Granger said a skilful potioneer can induce powerful infatuations, however, no one has yet managed to create the truly unbreakable, eternal, unconditional attachment that alone can be called love. It is also known that this potion has a different aroma for everyone who smells it, reminding the respective person of the things they find most attractive, regardless if they are or not aware of them.’

‘Very well, Miss Wulfric. Ten points to Gryffindor,’ Slughorn was looking at her with satisfaction. ‘Now, you have two hours to make this potion, the instructions are on the blackboard. Good luck!’

Maud was staring at the instructions, frowning. It looked like a baking recipe only infinitely more dangerous. She bent under the desk, reaching for the second cauldron which was, surprisingly, heavier than it looked.

‘I thought you were going to hide under the desk again,’ smirked Tom while arranging the ingredients in front of him. ‘You may wish I had very soon… I have a feeling I’ll make something explode,’ replied Maud looking at him, worry written all over her face.

‘Just put that cauldron down and help me with these ingredients. Slughorn said to work with me today. Watch and learn.’ She did as told and used her wand to get the heavy cauldron under the desk again. Tom gave her the jars he had in front of him to prepare the ingredients for the potion while he started a fire with a flick of his wrist. Maud picked out seven long Jobberknoll feathers, measured three ounces of ginger powder and seven cups of apple juice. She put them aside then started on grinding the Lavender into a fine powder which she left in a small cup, next to the Liquorice petals.

In the meantime, Tom had put the feathers into the boiling water. It boiled for an hour, during which Maud had successfully squeezed the green olives into oil. He let the water cool and then poured it through a fine strainer, into a bowl and then back into the empty cauldron. He let it simmer while he checked the powder Maud had ground. After fifteen minutes he added the apple juice and a teaspoon of ginger powder. The liquid was now a bluish grey. He emptied the small cup containing the Lavender powder, followed by the Liquorice and olive oil. He stirred two times clockwise and five counter clockwise. The mixture was now a pearl white and its fumes rose above their heads.

Maud had been watching Tom work in silence, amazed at how quickly he moved, hardly ever looking at the instructions. He was focused on the task at hand, reaching gracefully for the necessary ingredients, not once glancing at her. Slughorn had passed their table a couple of times, nodding appreciatively at Tom and making her feel bad for letting him do all the hard work while she just cut some petals and squeezed some olives.

‘You are amazing,’ whispered Maud nearing the cauldron. She did not intend to say it out loud, but he had heard it nonetheless and smirked in response. ‘It is only a simple potion,’ he replied without any intended false modesty.

He sat back in his chair, watching Maud as she stared into the white liquid, her expression unreadable. It vexed him thoroughly to see her make that face and not be able to tell what was hidden behind it, what caused it. He was used to looking at people and being able to tell their thoughts and feelings in an instant, not even using legilimency. There was only one other person capable of blocking him out and that was Dumbledore, a fact which made Tom even more suspicious.

‘What do you smell?’ asked Tom unable to control his curiosity anymore and having no other way of satisfying it. Maud raised her eyes to meet his. ‘I smell freshly baked pastries, lemon and cinnamon...’ Tom’s eyes darkened, but she hadn’t finished. She inhaled once more and closed her eyes. ‘I smell the wind that brings the storm, wood and something else, but I don’t know what.’ She opened her eyes and went back to her seat.

‘I hate love potions,’ muttered Maud. She could still feel the pearl white foams entering her lungs, searching her heart for the aroma she was most attracted to.

‘Why?’ whispered Tom searching her eyes.

‘Because it’s cheating,’ she replied bitterly. He seemed slightly surprised by her answer as if he expected her to say something else. ‘What do you smell?’

But Tom Riddle did not get to answer. Slughorn’s voice brought him back to reality, sealing his lips. The professor awarded Slytherin thirty points for Tom’s perfect Amortentia. He did not react to this, staring all the time at the pearl white foams dancing in the air. 


	6. Chapter 6

‘Do you know…I think we’ve never been properly introduced,’ Maud had stopped in the middle of the corridor looking at Tom’s back. They were heading for the Defence against the Dark Arts class and he was awfully silent, trapped in a web of thoughts known only to him.  
‘Why did you stop?’ he did not turn his head. He was waiting for her to get by his side again.  
‘I’m waiting for you to properly introduce yourself,’ answered Maud playfully.  
‘There is no point in doing that. You already know my name and I yours,’ his back was moving ever so slightly as he said that, looking as if every muscle was tense.  
‘What’s the matter? You’ve barely said a word since Potions…’  
Tom’s head turned slightly, offering Maud a view of his profile. The light radiating from the candles failed to bring some colour in his cheeks, his pale skin glowing of its own accord, emanating a cold light, freezing the air around him. His dark hair contrasted violently with his face, smooth wavy locks touching gently the side of his temple. Maud could read no distinct emotion on that pale, hauntingly beautiful face and it sent a sliver of ice into her heart, almost cooling the blood in her veins. It felt toxic.  
‘Are you coming or would you rather be late to Professor Merrythought’s class?’ his voice echoed down the empty hall, powerful, smooth, and emotionless. Maud walked up to him and Tom’s back muscles relaxed as he strode forth again. He knew that, regardless of how long his strides would be, she would keep up with him.  
‘You never answered… What did the potion smell like to you?’  
‘Nothing… It smelled like nothing,’ Tom answered hurried, looking forward all the time. Maud stared at him incredulously.  
‘That is not possible, you’re messing with me. There must be something you are attracted to.’  
He sniffed at her, his head held high, almost as if to say he was proud of not smelling anything in that potion.  
‘Being attracted to something means opening yourself to the possibility of pain and defeat, to weakness. When you love nothing, there isn’t anything that can be taken from you.’ He spoke with determination, never once glancing at Maud who seemed upset.  
‘What a lonely life that must be…’ She entered the classroom, leaving Tom behind.  
‘Hey, you!’ Arthur Urquart, the boy who had talked to Maud at the Gryffindor table the previous evening, was coming towards her, beaming. ‘Remember me? Maud, right?’ He extended his hand and she shook it, smiling at him.  
‘Hello!’ they were standing awkwardly in the middle of the classroom, a stream of students passing by and mumbling annoyed.  
‘I haven’t seen you at breakfast,’ said Arthur too cheerful to sound disappointed by her absence.  
‘I woke up early…’ She looked around, trying to find a desk to sit at, but they were all crammed against each other at the other end of the room. Noticing a couple of ravenclaws chatting in one corner, Maud frowned and surveyed the room more carefully. There were some hufflepuffs as well.  
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Arthur looking around the room.  
‘In my timetable it said “Defence against the Dark Arts with Slytherin”, but I see ravenclaws and hufflepuffs as well.’  
‘Ah, that was a tiny error. The timetables have been all fixed now. Don’t know how it happened… Dumbledore usually never makes these mistakes. Must have been one of Peeves’ more dry jokes, we hardly noticed it. Sixth and seventh years usually attend the classes they want, as long as they meet the requirements. For Defence against the Dark Arts you must have at least an Outstanding in your O.W.Ls. That and it’s supposed you only attend the subjects you’ll sit on your N.E.W.T.s. Didn’t you know that?’  
‘Ah, no,’ came Maud’s confused answer. She truly hadn’t. And she most definitely hadn’t chosen her own subjects.  
‘So what do you plan to do next? After Hogwarts I mean?’  
Maud widened her eyes in alarm. Was it alright for her to admit that she didn’t know? Would that look suspicious? Were students usually expected to know the answer to that question by now?  
‘Ah, well…,’ she began just as Professor Merrythought entered the classroom demanding their attention. Maud sighed in relief and fell silent despite the curious looks Arthur was throwing her.  
‘As this is your final year at Hogwarts, I trust that you are all very aware of the importance it holds over your future. Everything you hope to achieve depends on how you do in your N.E.W.T.s. I expect all of you to do just fine, as long as you will pay attention and apply a decent amount of seriousness to the tasks I’ll assign to you. Now, this year, we’ll continue with the study of non-verbal magic, especially in duels. We will also tackle the nasty business that is curses and how we might resist them, and I am talking here about the Imperius curse, which we have discussed last year, however briefly. And there is one more matter we will deal with this final year, one which I have put off for quite some time now, hoping that you will be more prepared for it: Dementors. Some of you complained last year that we did not study them- you may rest assured, I have not forgotten them. In fact, we will start this term with them. That being said, today we will try and conjure a Patronus. Can anyone tell me what that is?’  
Professor Merrythought was talking so fast, Maud was under the impression some invisible being was chasing her. Students had slowly gathered around her, listening carefully, grinning or widening their eyes at the sound of the word Dementors. A girl from Ravenclaw with long jet-black hair shot her hand in the air, eager to answer the professor.  
‘Yes, miss Rosier?’  
‘A patronus is a magical guardian, a projection of our most positive feelings which can be conjured using the Patronus Charm. It is considered to be very advance magic, which is why not all those who attempt to produce a Patronus succeed. ‘  
‘Very good, miss Rosier. Ten points to Ravenclaw.’ Miss Rosier gave a radiant smile to her friend before turning her attention back to the professor.  
‘The Patronus Charm is very helpful when dealing with dark creatures, especially Dementors. It can assume two forms: corporeal or non-corporeal, the former being more difficult to cast and appearing in the form of the animal towards which the caster has an affinity. It is a most difficult charm because it requires having a certain state of mind. In order to perform it, you must recall one of your most happiest memories and use it as fuel for your patronus. It is very important that you concentrate while saying the incantation: Expecto Patronum, and maintain your focus for as long as possible, otherwise it will not hold. Now, watch me do it.’  
She gestured for them to step backwards and raised her wand.  
‘Expecto Patronum’ Professor Merrythought extended her arm, her face locked in concentration as a thread of silvery smoke and light rose from the tip of her wand, gaining more substance as it expanded in the air, wrapping itself around an invisible horse. The silence grew ever so louder, with soundless gasps dying on students’ lips, while the horse jumped on its hind limbs. It neighed eerily, hitting an imaginary wall with its hooves, then springing forth as if released from some kind of mechanism, dancing gracefully and at full speed around the room, narrowly missing a couple of students.  
The class was silent, locked in a wide-eyed disbelieving state as they followed the animal with their eyes. They were witnessing a wonderful demonstration of a most potent magic and their features were lifted with astonishment. But as soon as the horse had reached the far corner of the room, it disappeared through the wall, leaving behind a group of bewildered students, a bluish mist wrapped around them. Magic was heavy in the air, settling in their lungs, mixing with their blood and making their skin prickle.  
Maud’s eyes were twinkling with many emotions: delight, astonishment, envy, eagerness –all these shadowed by doubt. What memories could she conjure to fuel such a spell? There was no grain of bright, pure happiness inside her mind from which she could muster that which was necessary for the charm.  
‘Well? What are you waiting for? An invitation?’ Professor Merrythought’s harsh voice broke the silence, bringing them all back into the now. ‘Split into pairs and get working! A patronus will not conjure itself, regardless of what your personal beliefs are.’  
They all broke into pairs, everyone staring at one another. Maud had remained facing Arthur, her back to the door. It made her skin sting and prickle at the same time, as if not facing the only sensible way out—if she didn’t count the windows, which she didn’t because they were on the fifth floor—automatically meant danger.  
‘So…shall we begin?’ asked Maud widening her eyes at Arthur in a mocking manner.  
‘After you, m’lady,’ laughed the boy, bowing elegantly. The room was already filled with Expecto Patronums and silvery flashes of light. Maud looked around frowning, raking her brain for some way out of that situation. She could always invent something… But she didn’t even have an inkling of what being happy truly meant. So she spied around, trying to find the answer in the sea of faces screwed up in concentration. The only person whose expression was seemingly emotionless was Tom’s, who was paired with a slytherin, their profiles set against the dark grey sky. He was producing a kind of white, sparkling smoke from his wand which coiled around his partner, but that was not a Patronus. It was some other spell which tried to mimic the appearance of a real magical guardian. The other Slytherin, however, did not seem to notice the difference as his face was turning a violent red while he held his breath, trying to conjure a wisp of silver light and failing miserably.  
‘Did you see that? Maud, did you see that?’ Arthur was yelling at her enthusiastically, trying to cover the incantations echoing in the room. ‘It nearly came out! I tell you! It was a silvery thing, right there, forming at the tip of my wand!’ He was beaming at her, pointing to his wand. Maud smiled back, encouraging him with her eyes to continue. She looked at her own wand, trying to get the Patronus out of it with her mind’s power, believing that will alone might do the trick. If she had known Tom’s spell, she would have conjured a fake Patronus herself.  
‘Stop staring at your wand, Miss Wulfric, and put some heart into it!’ yelled Professor Merrythought, her head popping out from behind a group of discouraged Hufflepuffs.  
Maud shut her eyes, her wand in her right hand, raised in front of her. The voices died out as darkness grew inside her mind, taking over the coloured spots forming behind her eyelids. It was so quiet in there, inside her head. Almost peaceful… She could hear her heart beating soundlessly, trembling inside her ribcage, sending blood through her thin veins.  
Think of something happy. Think positive… A Patronus… You need to conjure a Patronus. It’s a guardian made by a pure heart. You have a pure heart, don’t you? There is no blood. Nooo… no blood. None that wasn’t already yours. So say the incantation. Say Expecto Patronum! Say it! Do the spell. You know you can. You have more power than they’ll ever know. It’s simple, really. Point your wand at the air and whisper… Expecto Patronum!  
The voice whispered to her, ensnaring her, calling out to her from the back of her mind. It was her voice tempting her… It was that forgotten part inside of her, buried deep within, reaching out to her. The magic…  
Remember… A guardian forged from the magic of a pure heart. Your guardian. Your white, shining Patronus… Now. Say it.  
‘Expecto Patronum’ whispered Maud, her eyes still closed. She pictured what her own voice had told her to: that white, shining, pure guardian of hers.  
The room erupted in a shrill, collective scream, forcing Maud back to reality to face her Patronus. Only it was not what Professor Merrythought had produced with her wand. It was not a beautiful, fragile looking, silvery animal. It was as far from that as possible. The class stared in horror as an ever changing shape of blazing, roaring flames shot out from Maud’s wand, splitting itself into fiery tongues, trying to engulf as much air as possible, reaching for anything in its way to devour. Just as Professor Merrythought was advancing towards the flaming beast, Maud dropped her wand and stepped back, staring in shear horror at the now vanishing red of the air. Some students had ran towards the door, others, like Arthur, were on all fours looking as shocked as she was. Only Tom and the Professor were steady on their feet, wands in their hands and prepared for anything.  
Maud kept stepping back until she hit the cold wall, her eyes never blinking, not even for a moment. Her inner voice had died out, like the flames, leaving darkness and raw emotions in its wake. That was no guardian made of light, it was a full blown demon escaped from the pits of the Universe. Her skin was pale white and as cold as the stone she was standing against, but she could still feel the heat of those raging flames. People were muttering to themselves, looking at her, opening windows, sitting down, yet all she could sense was her heart hammering against her chest and her mind bursting with thoughts and emotions she could not decipher. Or she did not dare. There were no words to describe how much she wanted to be someone else in that moment. Her hair was glued to her neck, her skin felt so cold it almost made her shiver. Her eyelids would not close and there was no way to stop the light which filled the room from hurting her eyes. She wanted to run as fast as possible, to scream, to hit, to destroy, to hide, and to cry— all at once.  
But Maud did none of those things. She was vaguely aware of Professor Merrythought reassuring her as she nodded in response. With a corner of her overloaded brain, she had noticed people waving the incident away as an accident provoked by a clumsy witch. Someone, presumably Arthur had put her wand back in her hand and patted her on the head, saying something about lunch as he headed towards the door. Students were pouring out of the classroom, down the corridor, towards the Great Hall for lunch. One by one, they all left, the chatter following them out. Professor Merrythought smiled kindly at her—as kindly as someone like Professor Merrythought could— and passed Maud to someone else who guided her towards door. That someone was Tom Riddle.  
As soon as they were on the corridor, however, Maud broke into a run, aimlessly turning corners and climbing stairs. Tom had yelled after her annoyed, but did not chase after her. He went down for lunch, his face an unreadable mask, his muscles all tense.  
*

The stones rang of her steps. Two floors down and he could still hear her. Two floors down and that magnificent fiery beast was still haunting his sight. The heat had not faded from his mind and neither had her look while conjuring that creature. Against a room full of noisy, excited children, she had stood out. A calm, peaceful oasis of light hazel locks set against sickly white skin, heavy eyelids guarding those infuriatingly penetrating black eyes. He had wanted to hex her for pairing with that Gryffindor, even though a part of him had been glad to get rid of her. But that creature…that shape shifting raging fire which could have consumed them all in mere seconds had she lost control was a living testimony of what magic should be—the pure expression of power.

*

The library smelled of dust and old books, of creaking wood and cold stone. The shelves were packed with centuries’ worth of knowledge, leather bound pages reeking of magic. The few whispers that came from the students there were not enough to disturb the silence that seemed to had fallen in that part of the castle since before its construction.  
Maud’s table was packed with Transfiguration books, most of them opened, with bits of scribbled parchment in between pages. She was engrossed in a seventh year textbook, reading about self-transfiguration and the many difficulties one must overcome to achieve such a level of proficiency.  
She had been running for a while when she stopped in front of the library, deciding it was time for her to face the music. There was no point in exhausting the unpleasant thoughts out of her mind, seeing as they would probably return in her sleep to haunt her in a more terrifying manner, anyway. So instead, she decided to put all her energy into studying for her next class, hoping this way she would not make a fool of herself, again. She tried memorising as much wand movements as possible and she practiced the pronunciation of various incantations. She was determined to make Dumbledore proud to such an extent, that she skipped lunch altogether.  
At half past two in the afternoon, Maud left the library and headed for the Transfiguration class, on the first floor. The corridors were filled with students and she had to slither constantly between large groups of Slytherins or Hufflepuffs, avoid magic paper planes and even deflect the curse of the bogies a few times that went swishing from one end of the corridor to the other. Finally, she managed to get to the Transfiguration class unharmed. The room was empty with the exception of Dumbledore who was sitting at his desk scribbling something onto a piece of parchment.  
‘Ah, Maud! How are you doing on your first day, so far?’ Dumbledore smiled at her warmly from behind his parchments, eyeing her carefully.  
‘I’m managing… More or less,’ she smiled back at him as she sat down at the desk in front of him. There was a touch of worry in Dumbledore’s eyes as he inspected her, searching for something in her behaviour. Maud put her wand on her desk and let her bag fall underneath her chair. She was a bit nervous.  
‘I’ve heard of your little…accident in Defence against the Dark Arts. You mustn’t be worried, Maud.’ His eyes kept searching hers, reading all her fear and angst, his blue pouring into her dark irises, calming her down. She had never seen such clear, kind eyes. ‘I get the feeling that you are afraid of your own magic and it knows. Before you can hope to control it, you must accept it as part of who you are. Why are you so scared of it?’  
Maud looked at her hands, inspecting every inch of white skin that covered their bones. She was frowning, confused.  
‘I don’t know, sir. I honestly don’t. Whenever someone asks me something… half the time I don’t even know what to answer. I don’t know how to behave myself. And you are wrong, in a way… I don’t fear it. I take comfort in the magic I possess, because it is the only thing I truly own. It is the only part of me that I feel is rightfully mine. What I am afraid of, sir, is losing myself to this feeling, whatever I have left of me that is. I feel as though there is a sea of infinite power inside of me, raw and untamed and if I, for even a moment, relish in this feeling, I might lose myself completely. It’s hard to explain it. I think I like the idea of magic so much, that I fear the consequences of my surrendering to it.’ She raised her eyes to meet his and saw sympathy playing on Dumbledore’s features.  
‘My dear girl, no one ever said anything about surrendering. You must shake hands with your fears and walk down the path you have chosen, hand in hand. Magic is untamed power at its core. It is the darkest and deepest sea our soul could have conjured, made of everything we love and fear, without us even being aware of possessing those emotions. You cannot tame magic, you can only control yourself and your heart. And by doing so, you are no longer controlled by what lies deep within you. Magic reflects the heart, Maud. Never forget that and, above all, trust yourself.’  
He was now leaning over his desk, his voice a deep whisper pouring into her. Maud glanced at her wand then at the door behind her.  
‘But how can I trust myself when I don’t even know who I am?’ However, Dumbledore didn’t get the chance to answer her as the door had opened loudly, letting in a stream of loud students. Maud kept her gaze fixated on Dumbledore, even as the chair next to her screeched and a bag was dropped underneath her desk. She noticed the professor’s eyes darkening ever so slightly before turning to her left to see Tom Riddle sitting regally next to her.  
He did nothing to acknowledge her presence, his eyes settling on Dumbledore after quickly surveying the entire classroom. He was looking at the professor as though to dare him. Tom had sat next to Maud especially to see Dumbledore’s reaction, if he’d ask him to move or show any sign of displeasure. The second reason behind his choosing that particular seat, was to prevent others from sitting next to her, as it had happened in Defence against the Dark Arts. If he was to find out more about that girl, he needed to stay close to her, to study her when she let her guard down. And that was when she was practicing magic. It was during those moments when she forgot where she was or what she was supposed to do.  
‘Oh, hello, he-who-does-not-want-to-properly-introduce-himself,’ said Maud smiling, genuinely happy to see him. This took Tom by surprise and he had to stiffen a laugh which almost happened due to that unusual way of addressing him and the expression on her face. He was puzzled. Why was she so happy?  
‘Hello, again,’ answered Tom for the sake of being polite, all the while keeping an eye on Dumbledore’s reactions. The old man was pretending to write some things of importance onto a piece of yellow parchment.  
‘I saw you in Defence against the Dark Arts. Why did you pretend to conjure a Patronus?’ Maud turned in her seat to face him directly.  
‘I did no such thing. Just because you couldn’t conjure a Patronus, it does not mean all of us failed.’ He raised an eyebrow, aware of Dumbledore’s quill stopping abruptly. No one had managed to notice that he had conjured a fake Patronus instead of a real one, not even Professor Merrythought. So how did she know? The girl looked at him confused.  
‘I know what I saw. That was not your Patronus.’ Her eyes searched his, a riddle studying Riddle.  
‘And you would know that, wouldn’t you?’ mocked Tom.  
Maud frowned, her eyes shooting daggers at him.  
‘A dog always bites when he’s cornered. What’s the matter? You can’t bear the thought of failing?’ She turned towards Dumbledore, her arms crossed on her chest.  
‘It takes one to smell one,’ answered Tom, clenching his jaw.  
‘Welcome, my dears,’ said Dumbledore rising from his chair, his voice silencing the class. He was smiling at them with benevolence. ‘First of all, I am glad to see you all again this year, I hope you have all had a wonderful summer. Now, towards the future… this year we will be focusing on self-transfiguration mainly, from simple spells to change one’s hair colour or eyebrows, to the more enthralling Trans-Species transformations. I know you are all very eager to try your wands at the latter, however, today we will start with the wand movements and incantations for the more modest Multicorfors spell. Shall we begin?’  
Not waiting for an answer, Dumbledore took out his wand and waved it towards the blackboard, an elegant writing appearing on its surface. Maud took out some parchment, a quill and an ink pot and started taking notes, followed by Tom who did the same. They glanced at each other occasionally, their eyes, however, never crossing paths.

***************************

 

That day, Maud did not get the chance to make a fool of herself in Transfiguration. They had copied the instructions written on the blackboard, drawing the wand movements and memorising the incantations, after which Dumbledore explained the principles behind each step of what had seemed to be a simple spell. Only it was now clear that that was not the case. When the class ended and students started packing their things, Tom stood up and walked over to where Dumbledore was inspecting an odd looking instrument. They were discussing something regarding the Head Girl who was, apparently, a Gryffindor. Maud could not make out what they were saying over the screeching of chairs and the thuds of footsteps hurrying towards the door.  However, she did notice the way they were talking to one another—reserved. Both Tom and Dumbledore looked as if they were guarding each word that parted with their lips, neither of them wanting to let on more than was necessary. They did not resemble a student and a teacher. They both looked like two adults, two equally frightening adults from where she was standing.  But as soon as they finished talking and turned towards her, Maud could see Dumbledore’s eyes softening as they rested on her. Even Tom’s demeanour changed slightly, though she could not tell in what regard. He was simply harbouring another attitude, as dark as the one he had adopted while talking to the professor, only different.

She picked her bag and stood up, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, unsure of what she should do next. Tom gathered his things and headed for the door.

‘Coming?’ he asked as he reached the door, his back towards the class.

Maud turned her head in confusion, from Tom to Dumbledore. The professor was giving her a distant smile.

‘Good day, professor,’ said Maud walking slowly, uncertainty marking her steps. When she was a couple of feet away from the door, Tom left the classroom and turned left on the corridor. Maud had to pick up her pace in order to reach him before he turned around another corner. After making a few more steps he turned and looked to his right, surprised to see her beside him.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked coldly.

‘I thought you wanted me to follow you,’ she answered, stopping at once.

‘Whatever gave you that impression, Miss?’ He raised an eyebrow at her.

‘Umm… Perhaps the “coming?” part?’

‘I merely inquired whether you were planning on bothering Dumbledore for the rest of the afternoon, instead of minding your own business and letting the man breathe.’

She gritted her teeth and poked him in the chest with her finger. ‘You are insufferable. What’s with your mood swings? That is not what you meant when you asked if I was coming.’

‘Do. Not. Poke. Me,’ said Tom looking down at her, deadly serious. Every muscle in his body was tense.

‘Then. Don’t. Say. Things. You. Don’t. Actually. Mean,’ replied Maud annoyed, turning on her heels and heading in the opposite direction.

‘Don’t you dare walk away!’ He made two steps forward, his voice dancing dangerously in the air. She turned around and shot him a look that might have meant don’t you dare tell me what I dare and dare not do, or might have meant he was an arse, or even… that she will not stand being spoken to that way. He did not understand that look, but it stopped him from saying anything else, or even from making another step, and she walked away, vanishing behind a corner. He cursed, clenching his fists as a forgotten bottle on the windowsill next to him got shattered into pieces. Had he been somewhere else, away from Hogwarts, he would have hexed her for throwing that look at him and for being disrespectful. Unfortunately, he was right under Dumbledore’s nose and maiming his niece—if she truly was his niece— would destroy everything he had worked for so hard. So instead, he stormed down the corridor in search of a better victim for his rage.  

 

                                                                         *

 

 

Over the next few days, Maud grew more and more accustomed to the ways at Hogwarts. She still struggled with some of her subjects, particularly Potions which she had started to dislike. It wasn’t that she could not make the assigned potions; she managed—even when Tom was not working with her. What bothered her about that subject was that sinuous process she had to follow to get to the desired effects. It was, in a way, like cooking. However, Maud’s problem was that she did not possess the necessary patience for it and, while her intuition sometimes saved the substances she had to brew, most of the time her impatience ruined them.

Charms were by far the easiest. It was the only subject at which she could excel without having to study anything beforehand. It came naturally. In fact, on more than a few occasions, professor Mantibone expressed his frustration at there being no actual use for his teachings when it came to Maud. Regardless, she continued to attend his classes.

As days passed and the weather worsened, keeping students indoors most of the time, Maud managed to make a few friends as well, although she owed it mostly to Arthur who had introduced some people to her. On the first weekend of the term, he forced her out of the castle, in spite of the pouring rain, and dragged her to Hogsmeade. It took her a while to calm down and realize the boy spoke so much, that there was hardly any need for her to actively engage in the conversation. It was the same with his friends, amongst which was numbered the boy with whom Arthur had had the heated argument regarding Quidditch, that night at the Feast. Whenever he insisted on hanging out together, Maud would have to smile and pretend to listen, most of the time mimicking others’ reactions. They had long since given up on trying to prey some personal information out of her and they had included her in their circle because of Arthur. Maud suspected he knew she was hiding something from them, but he was too kind to sit idly back and watch her cower in the corner, too afraid of interacting with others. And his friends went along with that idea, even more so when they found out that she was, in fact, quite agreeable.

That weekend at Hogsmeade, Arthur had taken her out of the castle by force, insisting on her accompanying him to the Three Broomsticks where he was supposed to meet up with his mates. Only when they got there, soaking wet, had Maud realized his true intentions: to make her befriend his friends. She felt awkward the whole evening, her only consolation being the view. She had stared out the pub window so much that the buildings from across the street had become permanently engraved in her memory, and so had the people that came and went through that old wooden door. When that day finally came to an end, Maud had started to think she could actually tell a lie without turning a violent red; she had had plenty of time to practice that evening. She had also found out what Quidditch was and that it was never wise to begin a conversation on that particular subject—something which is inevitable when most of the people you are sitting at a table with are in the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

In fact, at the end of that stressful experience, Maud had learned more about Arthur and his friends than she knew about herself. The boy was quite charming and energetic—the kind everybody loves even when he crosses the line—and his passion for Quidditch was completed by his being a Seeker in the Gryffindor team. He was, in a way, the king of their House. Even when he became annoying or he proved to be quite shallow in some regards, Arthur still managed to produce a heart-melting smile and get away with whatever it was he had done wrong. He was truly the type parents called ‘a perfect child’. His friends, however, did not qualify in that category. They were nice people but they faded away by comparison. Priscilla Hollingberry was the Gryffindor Keeper and, apart from her talent at using a broomstick to produce the most incredible stunts, she was a rather dull person. Her brother, the blonde boy who had argued with Arthur at the Feast, was something else entirely. His name was Liam and he was fascinated by wands—something which had taken Maud by surprise seeing as she was half expecting him to be in the Quidditch team as well. If he hadn’t been properly educated by his parents to the point that it caused him physical pain not to abide by the social rules regarding one’s conduct, he would have started all conversations with the question ‘What wand do you possess?’. His obsession was quite amusing, even more so when his good-breeding demanded him to refrain from such outbursts. However, as it was clear from the way he had engaged Maud in the Quidditch conversation at the Feast, he was not always able to contain his enthusiasm for the things that interested him, regardless of how much physical pain it would cause him.

Charles Leatherby, Arthur’s closest friend, was the Beater and, apart from being terrifyingly muscular, he seemed the simplest of them all. His hair was cut really short, only showing a fine layer of tiny brown spikes, and his eyes were a lively green. He did not speak much unless he was drawn into the conversation, at which point his thin lips would start curling upwards into a playful smile that almost certainly would transform itself into a prank later on. He was the quiet joker, the one that fooled everyone with his looks.

And then, there was Tilda Stirling, a short, cute, enthusiastic girl with long wavy locks of blonde hair and blue eyes that shined off her freckled skin. Maud had absolutely no idea how she ended up with that group of people. She did not go in for Quidditch, nor did she have any apparent obsession to bring her close to that odd bunch. Her never-ending energy fuelled her constant giggles and made her bounce annoyingly in her chair. It was a mystery, however, how that same fuel did not affect her perfect concentration when in class or while studying. She was the one in their year that gathered the most house points, the one who, when she didn’t know the answer to the professor’s question, would at least do one thing right during that class to win her some points. Every single time. Maud could not understand Tilda Stirling. In a way, she was actually annoyed by that girl and her constant smiling. For some reason, it reminded Maud of a jar full of honey.

But that was not all. No… Maud had heard so much at that table that she felt her head had to explode from the amount of information received. First of all, Arthur was an only child, the crown jewel of his pureblood family, and he had grown up living next to Charles Leatherby, the opposite of him. Charles Leatherby had four older sisters who had cared for him ever since their mother had ran off with a muggle, leaving their father broken hearted and in no mood to raise his children. He too was a pureblood—a notion Maud had also learned that very instructive evening. Compared to Charlie’s family—that’s how everybody called the Beater—, the Hollingberry’s were quite normal, Liam and Priscilla’s mother being a muggle while their dad was the last of an old magical lineage. Tilda Stirling, however, lived with her grandparents after her parents were killed by some muggle soldiers when she was only four. Upon hearing this, Maud kept wondering how she managed to be so gleeful all the time. It made her feel bad for being so annoyed with the girl’s overwhelming enthusiasm, a pang of pain slithering into her heart as she imagined how Tilda must be like on the inside. At least she has her grandparents… at least she knows the truth. But that did not make it any less tragic in Maud’s eyes. On the contrary, it made her want to hug her, which, of course, she didn’t.

At some point during that evening, the centre of the attention shifted on Maud, a moment she interpreted as a sign to leave the premises at once. She made up some excuse, somewhere along the lines of “Dumbledore asked me to help him sort out his office which is in a complete state of untidiness” and hurried out the door. That was the first and last time they would ask about her family.

 

 

She ran through the rain for fear they might decide to come back with her, her eyes fixed on the muddy ground. She felt the chill enter her cloak, penetrating the skin and settling in her bones, sending shiver after shiver down her spine. Somewhere, beyond the thick layer of grey clouds, the sun was setting, leaving the darkness to rule over the skies. Between the constant splashing of mud and the sound of the raindrops hitting the ground and scratching the naked trees, Maud could barely even hear her own breathing. She was speeding up while trying to protect her eyes from the rain when her head collided with something hard, causing her to slip and fall on her knees, scraping them on a rock. She was biting her lips in pain when two strong arms wrapped around her, getting her back on her feet.

‘Thank you’ she said turning around to find a surprisingly dry Tom Riddle, an umbrella floating above his head.

‘I should’ve guessed that if anyone were to venture outside on this weather without bothering to bring an umbrella, it would be you,’ he replied looking at her coldly.

‘Well of course, who else?’ Maud threw him a fake smile and wrapped her wet and now dirty cloak around herself. ‘I should start running if I don’t want to get drenched to the skin beyond any hope of ever drying up again. Good evening, sir, I do not wish to detain you any longer.’ She bowed mockingly and set herself for a mighty run before Tom grabbed her cloak and pulled her under the large umbrella.

‘Don’t be silly,’ he hissed over the rain. ‘What would Dumbledore say if he learned I’d let his beloved niece run through the rain all the way to Hogwarts?’ She wrapped the cloak around herself even more tightly, pouting and shivering at the same time.

‘Thank you,’ Maud whispered reluctantly. His lips twitched upwards as he grabbed the umbrella to make sure it was sheltering both of them.

‘What are you doing wandering about in this weather, anyway?’

‘Arthur dragged me to Hogsmeade to meet his friends…’ answered Maud, making a wry face.

‘Arthur?’ asked again Tom, the name leaving an unpleasant taste in his mouth.

‘The Seeker from Gryffindor.’

‘Ah, so you’re one of those girls…’ he mocked.

‘What on earth do you mean by that?’ replied Maud, throwing a look filled with anger at him.

‘You know, the type that goes in for popular lads that are only good at Quidditch and who don’t have much to say, or even think.’ He was glancing down at her with the innocence of a little child, only his eyes bearing a touch of cruelty. Maud started laughing at him, tears streaming down her face, entangling themselves with the raindrops.

‘You’re funny. And silly. The only reason I agreed to go to Hogsmeade with him was because Dumbledore is becoming increasingly worried about my lack of friends. I don’t fancy the king of Gryffindor or any other kind of Quidditch star. It’s just better to be part of a group, any kind of group, than to be alone. ‘ Tom searched every inch of her face but the girl was sincere. There was nothing concealed behind that innocent face.

‘What about you? What were you doing in Hogsmeade?’

‘What is anyone doing in Hogsmeade?’ replied Tom cryptic.

She was about to tell him that answering a question with another question does not count when a loud thunder shook the sky, causing her to jump and shriek while covering her eyes as a lightning travelled through the clouds. She remained that way, not moving an inch.

‘Don’t tell me the brave little lion is scared of thunders,’ mocked Tom, stopping by her side nonetheless. Maud did not reply. Her hands were still covering her face but they were now shaking violently. He let go of the umbrella which remained hovering above their heads, protecting them from the rain, and pried her hands away from her tightly closed eyes.

‘Stop acting like a child.’ He kept her hands in his to make sure she would not cover her face again. Maud was trembling. She could feel Tom’s eyes on her, their weight scaring her even more than the thunders that continued in the distance. Tears were running down her cheeks and locks of wet hair were clinging to her jaw and neck.

‘Open your eyes,’ demanded Tom.

‘No.’

‘Open them!’ he repeated, more threatening this time. She shook her head.

‘I said open them!’ This time, his voice was deeper, more commanding and Maud obeyed. Two dark pools of fear and something else were shining against pale skin. They stared at each other, Tom’s face leaning into hers, closer and closer, her hands secured in his, keeping them apart. Another loud thunder, this time closer, made her scream once more, sending shivers down her spine, throughout her entire body. Tom did not even blink. He was willing his mind against her, cracking open the walls that had kept him away for so long. But she could no longer fight him, not when she was attacked on two sides—from outside as well as from within. Her fear flooded her mind, reaching out, breaking down her last resistance and leaving her vulnerable.

Another thunder blast rippled in the sky, right above their heads. Maud was now shaking violently, trying to free her hands, to get away from Tom and run, as fast as she could, as far away as possible.

‘No… let me go,’ she screamed, trying to kick him with her legs. She pulled and pushed, screaming, threatening, her magic rumbling inside her. The wind was getting stronger, blowing her cloak from around her frail body, freeing her face from the stray locks of wet hair. But Tom remained unmoved, like a stone statue set against the summer breeze. Not even Maud’s surges of magic that made her skin burn and sent electric shocks down his hands could make him so much as twitch. He kept probing her mind, removing layer after layer of fear and echoes of thunders, until he reached the calm dark sea of her unconsciousness.

Tom could hear a distant whisper, a threatening hiss, grazing the dark surface.

No… NO! Let me go! I said, let me goooooooooooooo!  It was Maud’s voice, but she wasn’t screaming at Tom. She was running away from the voice, that dark cackling that resembled the sound of an all- consuming fire. He followed her and that ominous sound to the deepest parts of her mind where the emptiness and that impression of tranquillity disappeared, making room for something else entirely. Tom felt an excruciating pain enter his mind as he reached that place where the voice divided into thousands, all different. He  could make out a woman’s scream, a man’s maddening laughter, an old voice’s words fragmented across her subconscious, edging out through the cracks in her mind. And somewhere in the background, a whisper running underneath that cacophony reached Tom’s mental ears. It sounded somewhat familiar, but he failed to put a name to it. And then, the pain increased, bringing with it the sadness of a scared little soul, lost and desperate, clinging to the dying flicker of hope. And that abandoned, childlike soul pushed Tom away. Away from the pain and the screaming voices… away from that deceiving calmness of a black, motionless water. Away from her mind…from Maud’s.

He blinked in confusion at the girl whose hands he was crushing in his. She had stopped trembling, despite the incessant thunders that kept booming above their heads, but her skin was cold as ice and her eyes stared blankly ahead, tears coming down her face. Tom let go of her hands, undoubtedly bruised. She was that lost innocent soul that had pulled him out of her mind, tortured by that loud nightmare. He could still feel the echo of her pain inside of him and he hated it.

‘I…hate…’ she looked up at him, wide-eyed and hurt. ‘I hate storms…’ she whispered eventually. Tom’s heart had stopped for a moment. He thought she was about to say she hated him, something which, for some unknown reason, would have upset him greatly.

‘You’re such a scaredy-cat for a mighty lion,’ said Tom teasing after a few seconds. He took her hand in his and led her down the path to Hogwarts. Maud’s fragile fingers tightened around his, her heart slowly calming down. What an odd little lion has Dumbledore adopted…


	7. Chapter 7

***

 

‘Aren’t you going to the Slytherin common room?’

Maud looked at Tom confused as he pulled her towards the staircase. He was still holding her hand in his, as if to make sure she would not slip back into her childish, scared self.

‘It’s still raining outside. It wouldn’t be pleasant for anybody if the castle would suddenly start echoing with your screams. I’ll walk you to the Gryffindor common room to make sure you won’t get scared by your own shadow.’ He was glancing down at her with contempt in his eyes, his entire posture giving off superiority. Maud rolled her eyes at him. Now that she was slowly warming up the pain in her knees began to surface. Until then, she hadn’t noticed it, but now that she was regaining her senses she could no longer ignore the bruises and cuts.

‘What’s the matter?’ Tom was eyeing her carefully. Maud grimaced just as her knees started to shake slightly.

‘Nothing… It’s just…well, it is quite exhausting to be terrified by thunders during a storm, you know? And having your hands bruised by a temperamental bully is no help either.’ She laughed to dismiss any shadow of pain that might have remained on her face, but she truly looked tired. Tom stopped on the staircase, pondering upon something in his mind. Everybody was down in the Great Hall, enjoying their supper. He sighed dramatically and picked her up in his arms.

‘Let’s not pretend this is not what you’ve been hoping for when you complained earlier,’ he said, being curiously charming while maintaining his usual attitude of superiority. Maud laughed awkwardly, not knowing what to do with her arms and feeling silly at the same time. That was not what she had been hoping for, by far.

‘You’re so full of yourself, it’s a wonder you have enough room inside that body to breath.’ She giggled, this time more naturally, and let her head rest on him, her hands on her lap.

‘Hmph! Perhaps you’d rather walk.’ He raised his eyebrows at her, his face cold and emotionless all of a sudden.

‘No… What I meant to say is… Thanks.’ She smiled warmly, her eyes fixed on his. Tom felt odd, seeing such an honest and kind expression directed at him. He did not know what to do with that feeling inside of him. Let it grow and spread warmth? Crush it in his anger? Why did he act so differently with her? What was it about that girl that made him extend those gestures of…politeness? _She looks so innocent, but that nightmare, living insider of her, poisoning her, torturing her… what is that thing? And what has Dumbledore in store for this girl?_ Tom shuddered imperceptibly as a shiver travelled through his heart, burning his flesh, his blood, sending that sensation throughout his body. He averted his eyes, cursing himself mentally as he built back up his emotionless, cold mask. Her head still rested on his chest and Tom could feel the light pressure stir up a familiar sensation in him. It felt so natural.

‘Why are you so quiet?’ Maud’s voice was just a whisper, barely audible above the sound of Tom’s footsteps. She had closed her eyes and was listening to the sound of his heart, her ear pressed against his hard chest.

‘Not all of us feel the need to talk continuously.’

‘I think you should put me down,’ replied Maud calmly, still listening to Tom’s heart.

‘So easily offended, are we?’ Tom smirked, climbing yet another flight of stairs and tightening his grip on her.

‘That’s not it,’ she laughed in reply. ‘But your heart is beating quite fast. Are you sure I’m not too heavy for you?’

Tom snorted. She was too thin to be heavy for anybody, let alone him.

‘I assure you, Miss, I have no problem with carrying you to the Astronomy Tower, let alone to the Gryffindor common room. And, besides, we’ve already arrived.’

 

 

 

 

                                                                                 Chapter 7

 

His heartbeat was ringing in her ears, making her blood dance to his rhythm. She could feel him near, though they were separated by a sea of darkness, still and deadly. Her head was rocked by the steady movements of Tom’s trembling chest. She felt him there, cradling her against the dark. But Tom Riddle was not there, not really. No. An idea of him sheltered her against the all-consuming nothingness that threatened to engulf her at any moment.

The borders of that veil of darkness were starting to slowly pulsate, edging itself closer and closer, bringing with it a deep rumbling that resembled a far-gone thunder of forgotten ages. And as it gained ground, it rose in intensity, the sounds building up into one loud growl that ripped the calm sea of her subconscious apart. And voices bled through the cracks, sliding and entangling themselves with the remnants of fabric, searching for her…hunting her down.

She remained curled up in that idea of heartbeat, trying to be one with it, trying to assume its possessor’s emotionless calm. She focused on that, sending away the ever-growing sound of nightmares unleashed, delaying for as long as she could the dreaded moment when all would be shattered, even that oasis. But the cracks opened wider and the army of voices could no longer be exorcised. They surrounded her and filled her up, chasing away that soothing rhythm.  She screamed in an attempt to cover all of them, but to no avail. There was no one coming for her. No one even knew she was there. She was lost. So she did the only thing lost children know how to do. She ran. As fast and as far as she could, because that was the only familiar thing left in one, tiny corner of her mind. And she did not stop. Not even when her feet started aching. Not even when the darkness entered her lungs, choking her. Not even when she reached the limit of her mind. Not even then. She kept running and falling and running and falling, until there was no sense left in her mind for those voices to torture. Until she was falling through the pit of oblivion…

…onto her bed at Hogwarts.

Maud looked around her in confusion. Her pyjamas were drenched and clung to her skin, making her tremble. There was no one else in the room; everybody was already enjoying their breakfast in the Great Hall. Maud got up, shivering and shaking, and went to the windowsill where the egg was resting, unmoved since it had arrived in that dorm.

‘Hello…’ greeted Maud, sliding a finger through the bars of the cage and petting the egg gently. Its shell was warm, vibrating almost imperceptibly. Maud widened her eyes, studying it carefully.

‘Are you truly hatching?’ She retreated her finger, her face screwed up in concentration. Sighing, Maud abandoned the egg, feeling too drained to be excited and got dressed in a hurry, not paying much attention to what she was doing. She picked up her bag and left the common room, intent on getting at least one bite of toast before Potions. The prospect of another rainy Monday did not lift her spirits, nor did it comfort her aching head.

It was an unusually dark September morning. Heavy dark clouds were obscuring the sun, filling the atmosphere with uneasiness. The air prickled with static energy, and stray drops of rain were falling occasionally on the ground, forming small pools of muddy water. The towers seemed so much taller in the dim light, so much more imposing, guarding the castle grounds and darkening them at the same time. Even the Forbidden Forrest was fading away in that black mist, losing itself in the mighty shadow of Hogwarts, whose bright windows and welcoming fires failed to soften the cold stone.

It was a dark day…

Maud entered the Great Hall, feeling worse with every step she took. Arthur gestured desperately for her to sit next to him.

‘Where have you been?’ he jumped at her without even saying _Good Morning_ —albeit, that would have been a most annoying thing to say on a day such as that.

‘Hold your trousers, mister. I’ve slept in, that’s all. Once.’ She smiled tired, pouring some milk in the bowl in front of her. She added some cereals and started to eat slowly, barely keeping her eyes open.

‘And you’ve slept in for an entire day? Because yesterday I haven’t seen you at all. Not in the Great Hall and not in class…’ Arthur was studying her carefully. He was worried and her looking so beaten down did not ease the feeling, at all.

‘What? What are you talking about. Yesterday you dragged me into Hogsmeade.’ Maud had stopped eating and was now staring at Arthur.

‘No. That was Sunday. Yesterday was Monday. Don’t tell me you’ve literally slept through a Monday.’ He was laughing disbelievingly at her.

‘But that’s not…possible. I-‘ but she didn’t get to finish her sentence as a Hufflepuff girl came to Maud and interrupted the conversation.

‘Hello, I’m sorry to bother you, but have you seen Bells? Or Jane, or Clary? I know you’re in the same dorm as they…it’s just… well I haven’t seen them yesterday. Have you spoken with them? Are they still mad? Are they playing a prank? Please tell them I’m sorry, ok? Just tell them… I don’t want them to be mad at me.’ The girl was fidgeting with her cloak, her eyes teary.

‘I will… Only, just so you know, I haven’t seen them either.’ Maud smiled kindly at the nervous girl who thanked her and went back to her table.

‘Have you seen them?’ Maud had now turned to Arthur, panic slowly rising in her.

‘No…Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen them either. Not since Sunday, that is. Hm…that’s odd.’ Arthur was now searching the Gryffindor table frowning as he reached the other end. Where were those girls? People were now getting up to leave the Great Hall. Maud stood up to inspect the stream of students flowing out of the hall. There was no sign of the three girls anywhere.

‘Maud, calm down. I am sure they’ll turn up, eventually. Perhaps they really are playing a prank on that poor girl.’ Arthur was trying to get her attention, to calm her down and get her seated so she could finish her breakfast, but he too was worried. The entire business reminded him of the episode with Myrtle. What if the monster had come back? What if the chamber was once more open? _That’s stupid, Arthur. They caught the guy who did it. And besides, Jane was most certainly a pureblood. Snap out of it, you bloody idiot._ While Arthur fought with himself internally, however, Maud had left the table, heading for where Dumbledore was sitting.

The man had noticed Maud cross the hall. She looked terrible. Her skin was as pale as a sheet, her dark eyes gleaming with panic and fatigue. He got up from the staff table and walked towards the Gryffindor table to meet her halfway.

‘My dear, what on earth is the matter? Come with me.’ Dumbledore circled his arm around her shoulders, guiding her towards a secluded door. It led into a deserted passageway which connected the Great Hall with the eastern part of the castle. They did not exchange a word until Dumbledore was helping Maud into a chair across the desk in his office, while he closed the door with a flick of his hand.

‘What happened Maud? Where were you yesterday? It doesn’t seem like you to miss a class.’ He handed her a cup of tea which he had produced with his wand and sat down next to her, waiting patiently for her to regain her voice.

‘Professor…I slept through the entire day,’ Maud looked up through the steam, her eyes wide and restless. ‘I went to bed Saturday night…and when I woke up I thought it was Monday morning, only when I got down to breakfast, Arthur told me that it’s actually Tuesday. But that’s not it, not in the least. That wouldn’t even be such a big deal, it would just concern me. The problem is, the three girls I share the dorm with, Jane, Clarissa, and Belladonna, haven’t been seen since Saturday night. They were not in the room when I woke up, nor were they in the Great Hall.. And their Hufflepuff friend hasn’t seen them either. I don’t know why I am overreacting and panicking. But… it doesn’t seem right. Something is not right...’ Her hands were shaking so hard she had to put her cup on Dumbledore’s desk.

‘It’s alright, Maud. Everything will be just fine.’ His piercing eyes settled on her face as his hands cupped her cheeks, cradling her and stopping her from trembling at the same time. Dumbledore let his mind pour into hers, probing her, searching, much like Tom had previously done. After a few long moments, he released Maud, backing away from her mind, letting his long fingers slide away from her pale skin.

He seemed worried as he rose from his chair and started pacing the room, the mirrors from various instruments catching his image and distorting it. Underneath his thoughtfulness, Maud could swear she had seen a tinge of anger. Why? Had she upset him?

‘Professor?’

Dumbledore stopped pacing the office, his back to the girl.

‘Have I done something? Is it my fault they’re gone?’ At this, he turned around with one swift twirl of robes.

‘No,’ he answered bewildered. ‘My dear girl, why would you even believe such a thing?’

‘You seemed upset after you stared into my eyes. What did you see in them? What was it that angered you, sir?’ Maud was staring at him with determination. If he had discovered anything about her, she would rather know than stay in the dark. There was nothing worse than fearing yourself, not knowing of what you are capable, or what lies deep within, what desires…what nightmares. She would know.

‘I told you once already, Maud. You must trust yourself. Trust your heart! What does it say to you?’ He came back to her, kneeling at her feet, eye to eye.

‘That I am too scared… Sir... I don’t want to hurt anybody. I just want to be free, and not knowing keeps me captive.’ She was so, so tired. Dumbledore smiled kindly at her, patting her head in a reassuring manner.

‘Always listen to your heart, Maud. The mind can be corrupted, but the heart will always stay true to you. Now… Go to your class—I believe you have Charms today—and I will bring you news when I have them. I must go have a little chat with Headmaster Dippet. ‘

Maud frowned at her robes, her hands playing absent-mindedly with the folds. She did not move an inch.

‘Finish your tea before you go and have some Custard tart, it’s delicious. That should put you on your feet before you can even say-‘

‘Quidditch…’ Maud smiled timidly at him as she took the cup of tea in her hands. Dumbledore beamed at her and vanished behind the door, his footsteps echoing down the corridor for a few seconds before they too disappeared.

 

***

 

 

‘Maud! Thank Merlin!’ Charlie Leatherby was stirring his massively intimidating body towards Maud, a look of desperation upon his face. ‘Arthur’s told me you’re quite good at Charms-‘

‘The best, actually,’ intervened Arthur, popping up from nowhere.

‘Yes, yes! The best! Now, could you, please, show me how that wretched spell is done? Before that bloody Mantibone comes and rips me apart…again.’

Charlie looked utterly desperate. Too desperate to actually be so. He was never that stressed out about anything, not even Quidditch, let alone Charms—a subject at which, from what Maud had seen so far, he was good enough to get the spells on his own. And Arthur was too enthusiastic about her abilities, pushing her towards Charlie. Maud’s instincts were definitely not wrong, Arthur was trying his best to distract her from that morning’s episode, and Charlie was his partner in crime.

‘Please! I simply can’t get this spell,’ Charles pleaded.

‘Alright, alright!’ Maud conceded, looking suspiciously at Arthur who was watching them with feigned interest, as if he too were in need of assistance.

‘The wand movements aren’t that tricky if you focus on each part, separately. Here!’ She took out her wand and demonstrated each section slowly. Every time she moved her wand, a string of light would come out from the tip, leaving a trail behind for Charlie to follow up more easily.

Tom watched from afar as the two Gryffindors begged Maud for her help. He could see that that was not their real intention, especially since they weren’t paying any attention to her words, purposefully doing the wrong wand movements so she would waste more time and energy on them. And she had looked drained and tired from the moment she had stepped into the Great Hall for breakfast—there was no need for those imbeciles to eat up any more of it. Clearly, they were trying to distract her. But why? Why had she looked so upset earlier that morning, searching desperately the hall and then running to Dumbledore? What had happened to make her look so distraught? He kept eying the Gryffindors, patiently waiting for the right moment to ransack their minds.

Charlie kept messing up the spell, despite Maud’s excellent instructions, producing various effects—from coloured smoke, to making mere objects behave like animals. But Arthur’s plan was paying off so far. The girl appeared to have forgotten that morning and the panic that had risen with it. He had the feeling she was in desperate need of that moment of respite, that she might crack if she didn’t calm for at least a second. Arthur had no idea what was going on, or why he was even helping that girl. He knew she had many secrets and it was unlikely he would ever learn them, but she was Dumbledore’s niece, the Head of Gryffindor house, and she was a Gryffindor. And one thing the man had always preached to them was that help must always be given at Hogwarts to those who need it. That girl deserved their help, even if she was just a stranger to them.

Tom Riddle saw it all in Arthur’s mind—from the incident in the Great Hall to the stunt he was performing now, trying to keep Maud’s attention away from the recent trouble. Now, he was intrigued. What had happened to those girls? The corners of Tom’s lips twitched upwards into the shadow of a cruel smile. _Something wicked this way comes…_

‘MISTER LEATHERBY! Are you trying to kill us all?! By god, son, what on earth are those wand movements?’ Professor Mantibone’s voice boomed over the classroom as rivers of students flowed to their assigned desks. The mountain of muscles that was Charlie was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, his wand high in the air as he pointed at the chandelier which was now growling like a wolf. Maud was trying hard not to laugh at the boy’s reddened face. It was now clear to her too that Charlie and Arthur were acting like two empty-headed buffoons to cheer her up.  

‘I am sorry, professor. Although, let’s be honest, how is a growling chandelier going to kills us all?’ He looked innocently at the professor and lowered his wand. However, just as professor Mantibone was opening his mouth to give the boy a reply, the object in question gave out a mighty roar and escaped from the chains that kept it suspended, plunging towards Charlie’s head. He looked up in time to see the chandelier being transformed into a bucket full of water that splashed him, drenching him from head to toe.

‘Not us all, mister Leatherby, just you. Weren’t you allergic to water? Or was it just common sense that repelled you?’

The class roared with laughter as the skeletal professor bowed theatrically, his long, thin body resembling a crooked twig. Charlie rolled his eyes at the man and muttered something unintelligibly, pointing the wand at himself. Warm gusts of wind came out from the tip, drying him up in an instant. He then went to his seat, next to Arthur, mumbling all the time and glaring at those who were still giggling.  

‘I hope you’re happy with the performance,’ whispered Charlie through greeted teeth.

‘Oh, yes. Yes I am,’ he turned to his best friend and gave him a wide grin. Charlie snorted at his reaction, giving him an elvish smile nonetheless.

Maud took her seat next to the window still fighting the urge to burst into laughter. Tom ignored the longing looks he received from two Slytherins and threw his bag onto Maud’s desk. He sat down ignoring her, his eyes surveying the every being in that classroom before turning to her.

‘Hello,’ he said seemingly detached.

‘Hi!’ Maud smiled at him, her face lighting up. He would never get used to how her entire facial expression changed when talking to him. It was something Tom had never seen on anyone, not when they were engaged in a conversation with him, not even when they were merely watching him. It was simply something he had never stirred up in others. But somehow, whenever Maud would look at him, her eyes would twinkle in a most peculiar way and her face would soften instantaneously, as though she was truly glad to see him. And he enjoyed thoroughly seeing that reaction on her, as much as it puzzled him.

They did not exchange another word after that, spending the next hour and a half in silence, letting the magic flow between them instead of proper sentences. Strangely enough, it was one of the most relaxing moments Maud had experienced so far. Tom’s proximity, to her, was more soothing than any other thing. It was something that chased away her anxiety and her nightmares, a constant reminder that even in the darkest pits of her subconscious, she was not alone. Perhaps she felt that way because he was amongst the first faces she had seen since waking up into that world. Perhaps, yet not quite… The fact that she felt at ease with him was just as inexplicably, in a way, as why she had chosen that egg as a pet. Her heart had dictated so and she had obeyed.

However, when the class ended and Maud stepped into the corridor, the magic disappeared, leaving room for trouble as Dumbledore approached the girl. She felt her heart sink to the ground. The air was suddenly stiff and hard to breathe in.

‘Come, Maud. We must have a word.’ He smiled at her with kindness, as he always does and put his hand around her shoulders in an attempt to shelter her from whatever it was he thought might upset her. They did no go to his office, instead, they climbed the stairs to the Astronomy Tower. Outside, the rain had stopped.

‘I have always felt an uncanny attraction towards this place. This is Hogwarts’ tallest tower, and yet we are undoubtedly closer to the ground than we are to the skies. At night, however, one cannot help but feel as though the stars are reaching down towards us, longing for the ground to embrace them. Strange, isn’t it? That two entities so different, so entirely opposed to one another would seek each other’s company with such desperation, such longing. The sky desires the earth. The stars dream of the refreshing touch of grass. The sun chases the moon. Our world seems to be built upon this odd attraction between opposites. Sometimes I wonder…What would happen if nature would give in? What would our world be like if just once, evil might find solace in good’s embrace? I wonder…’

Dumbledore was leaning against the railing, glancing at the grey clouds. Beautiful as it was, his speech brought a tinge of pain in Maud’s heart.

‘Ah, but here I am boring you with my ramblings, Maud. I’ve brought you here so we may talk without having to worry about any prying ears. I have spoken to Headmaster Dippet and he has put together a search party. Members of the staff will search the grounds as well as the castle itself for the three young ladies. Rest assured, Maud, we will find them.’ The professor turned to face her, his lips smiling benignly, yet his eyes dark with foreboding.

‘In the meantime, owls have been sent to the parents, informing them of the current situation. I must ask you not to speak to anybody regarding this sensitive matter.’

‘I understand.’ Maud was filled with so many emotions, she had difficulty focusing on any one of them.

‘Good.’ He was now standing in front of her, his hand resting on her shoulder. ‘Now, off you pop. It’s time for lunch, dear. You look awfully pale, you must eat.’ He let go of her, turning around towards the magnificent view.  Maud frowned at his back but did not say a word. She walked towards the stairs, throwing one last look at Dumbledore’s back before vanishing beneath the wooden floor. It was only a matter of time now. 


	8. In which darkness stirs

                                                                 

 

The Great Hall was bursting with laughter and the clinking of plates, forks, and goblets. Maud was sitting at the Gryffindor table, feeling left out. She was picking at her baked potatoes, staring sadly at her goblet full of pumpkin juice. She hated pumpkin juice. Arthur had long since finished eating and was now studying her.

‘Maud?’

The girl, however, kept playing absent-mindedly with her food, apparently not hearing him.

‘Maud?’ Arthur repeated, this time louder.

‘Hm?’ This time she looked up from her plate, towards the boy opposite to her.

‘Do you have any other classes this afternoon?’

‘It’s still Tuesday, right? I didn’t black out again or fell asleep during Charms and woke up after a month, did I?’ Maud’s face was a mask of gravity. Arthur shook his face full of confusion.

‘Then nope. I don’t have any other classes today,’ she replied smiling innocently.

He stared at her for a couple of seconds after which they both burst into laughter, the boy almost knocking over his goblet. They kept laughing for several minutes, at which point they were both red-faced, fighting for air between fits and nearly ending up on the floor from convulsing uncontrollably. Arthur was mainly laughing because of the sounds she was making which made her resemble a child so much more than usually, while Maud had simply lost control over it, probably due to her fatigue. By the time they were done, however, the entire table was staring at them.

‘How can you laugh that way?’ asked Arthur, finally trying to catch his breath.

‘What…hihi…do you mean...hihi?’ She was still giggling despite her efforts to become serious once more.

‘You laugh like a child!’

‘No, I don’t!’ replied Maud, pouting.

‘Yes you do,’ this time, he was the only one laughing, the girl trying her best to resume her gleeful moment at just a smile.

‘Anyway,’ continued Arthur, sobering up. ‘What do you plan on doing with the rest of your day?’

‘I think I’ll just go to the library and do some reading,’ shrugged Maud.

‘Why don’t you come with us to the Quidditch pitch to watch us practice?’ Arthur was eying her eagerly.

‘I think I’ll pass this time, Arthur. I’m just too tired today. Maybe the next time?’ She gave him a weak smile and started playing with her potatoes once more, the moment of joy now passed.

‘Ok,’ the boy sighed and shook his head towards his friends, who were watching them closely.

The caretaker, Rancorous Carpe, entered the Great Hall at full speed, running towards the staff table with a look of utter horror stuck on his face. His jaws were opened in a dumb way and his eyes were wide-opened giving him the appearance of a man in pain. He was quite a solid man, in spite of his old age, and his head was a shiny orb decorated by feeble looking veins. Rancorous Carpe had been the caretaker at Hogwarts since the early 1870s. He was a decent, if not peculiar man, who did not intend to inflict punishment on children unless it was absolutely necessary for disciplining them. He was the only caretaker in the castle’s history, so far, to not have a thirst for torturing students. His only desire was to see Hogwarts in a state of order and perpetual peace, an ideal, he had found out two years ago, that would never be attained—not when things like the murder of that muggle-born Ravenclaw could happen even in there. His only purpose now was to see Peeves forever banned from the castle and he employed every ounce of his powerless magic to see that wish come true. He was a lonely, anti-social man, who worked hard but did not care much for the company of others—he sought only to do as good a job as a near Squib could do. And now he was completely out of his depths; that look of horror to be seared onto his eyes for the rest of his miserable life.

He had finally reached Headmaster Dippet when he collapsed at his feet. Professor Dumbledore got up from his chair and helped the man steady himself, a look of concern engraved upon his features. The entire Hall fell silent.

‘Master Dippet, sir…master Dippet. I tried. Honest I did, sir. Bu’ how were I…know…that…I did, sir master, I did. They… She…She… I couldn’t master, but honest I tried anyways. But she was too quick and shocked…did herself in… And the others. I…I…’

‘Shh…Calm yourself, Carpe. Calm yourself!’ Dippet had got around the table and was now leaning towards the man, waiting for him to gain coherence.

‘The girls. The girls that was missing… I found them, in the Forbidden Forrest. One was cradling the other ones…crying and laughing at the same time. Horrible sound…horrible. Can’t. Get. It. Out…my head. I want it out.’ He managed to say all these through greeted teeth, his eyes filled with pain and the madness he had borne witness to.

‘She confessed…She said she killed the two. And then she did herself in, before I got the chance. Before I was reaching her…she did herself in.’

‘Come now, man! Get a hold of yourself! Stop crying and take us there.’ Headmaster Dippet gave the caretaker a stern look, trying hard to speed up the scene so the students would hear much. But it was too late, the Great Hall was buzzing with whispers. The old man gulped loudly and turned around shaking slightly, guiding the Headmaster and Professor Dumbledore towards the entrance.

‘Students are to finish their lunch and then proceed to their classes, as per usual. No one is to enter the Forbidden Forrest, understood?’ Headmaster Dippet eyed the entire Hall, a warning shadowing his tone. ‘The Head Boy and Girl, come with us.’

Upon hearing the Headmaster’s words, Dumbledore’s face darkened even more. Tom Riddle and a short, brunette girl had left their seats and were heading towards the two Professors. The party disappeared soon after, their exit lifting the spell that seemed to had been cast upon the mass of students which burst into a cacophony of voices.

Maud was livid. She dropped her fork and rose from her seat, hurrying out of the hall. Arthur ran after her, calling out to her when she had reached the top of the first flight of stairs. The girl, however, ignored him and sprinted up the staircase.

‘Maud! Wait up!’

But she had long since disappeared above his head, leaving him in the hallway, cursing loudly.

‘Custard tart,’ said the girl to the Fat Lady, jumping into the passageway.  She walked past a couple of third years lounging in the common room and went up the stairs to her dorm. Just as she was about to open the door a strange noise stopped her in her tracks. It was a strange sound which reminded her of two birds at the same time; it was harsh and high pitched, as though two creatures were battling, each wanting to hear its own voice above the other’s. Maud pushed open the door, prepared to see the creatures flying around the room. But there was only one bird in there, fighting against the bars of its cage, its large wings bent in an unnatural way.

‘What???’ she stared at the bird open-mouthed, not understanding in the slightest. There were bits of its black and gold shell all over the windowsill.

‘What are you? I don’t understand. This morning…you were just an egg and now you’re a fully-grown bird. Are you truly a phoenix? But you don’t look like one, not quite. The beak, the long neck…the wide wings and body…and tail…those are all a phoenix’s.’

She stepped closer, frowning with curiosity.

‘But the feathers…the colours are wrong. A phoenix is red and golden. But look at you…you beautiful oddity. ‘ She was now leaning her hands against the cage and her eyes were bright with enthusiasm, her initial reason for going into her room all but forgotten. The bird was blinking at the girl, mesmerized. It was stretching its neck, trying to fit it’s head between the bars, reaching for Maud, captivated.

It was a majestic bird, it’s entire body was covered in long, silky black feathers, except part of its wings, its head and neck and the tail. The beak was golden and tiny yellow feather sprung from it, covering the head and entangling themselves with the long, blood-red ones that protected its long, fragile looking neck, which then mixed up with the pitch black ones. The same combination could be seen on the large wings, whereas the bird’s long tail was adorned with long, black and gold feathers.

‘Look at you…’she waved her wand at the cage, opening it and setting the creature free. The bird stretched its wings and shot into the air, narrowly missing Maud’s four-poster bed. It opened its beak, letting out a mesmerizing cry, the same dual sound—harsh and high-pitched. It overflew the room a couple of times then landed gracefully back on the windowsill, its black eyes fixed on Maud.

‘Are you some kind of cross-breed? Maybe one of your parents was a phoenix, then?’ The bird tooted at her, leaning its head against the girl’s outstretched hand, craving her touch.

‘So you’re my pet, then?’

The bird gave out another of her odd cries, leaning further into Maud’s hand.

‘I’ll take that as a yes.’ She smiled at it, stroking her long neck.

‘What should I call you?’ The bird tilted its head, blinking in anticipation. ‘How about Emryk?’

The bird opened its wings and flew onto Maud’s bed, his eyes gleaming cheerfully. ‘Alright, then Emryk it is. I think I’ve read it somewhere, in a book…Anyway, perhaps you’d like to stretch your wings a bit more, wouldn’t you?’

Emryk croaked and peeped at the same time, flapping its wings at the same time.  The girl took the cage down from the windowsill and opened the window. ‘But be careful not to be seen. I doubt people have seen birds like you before. And be back by nightfall, alright?’

The bird flew gracefully out the window in response, disappearing behind a cloud as it rose higher and higher, leaving Maud behind, alone in that room. She felt a shiver run through her heart as she remembered why she had come there in such a hurry. She stared at the deserted bedroom, trying hard not to let her eyes wander to where the beds in which, until recently, her roommates had slept. She had never properly spoke to them, but regardless of her slightly unsocial nature, they had been kind to her and now they were gone. Was it her fault? It couldn’t be a coincidence that she had slept through a whole day—the same day during which the girls had disappeared. What if she had done something to them? _That’s rubbish and you know it. You heard the caretaker. One of them killed the others in the Forbidden Forest or someplace else and then committed suicide just as that man was reaching towards her. If you had killed them, then why did one of them took responsibility for the murder and then ended her own life? But magic is powerful…magic can do all sorts of things…it can play with your mind and…No. No! Magic reflects the heart; that is what Dumbledore said. I didn’t kill anybody. I am not dark. I am not a monster. I wouldn’t let any kind of magic or heart rule over me! I wouldn’t!.................would I?_

She let herself curl up into a ball on the floor, wrapping her arms around her legs. She was staring into thin air as a lonely tear wandered off across her cheek, hitting the floor soundlessly, while outside voices were rising from the common room, sliding under the door and penetrating her deserted oasis.

Steps echoed up the staircase, down the narrow corridor, until they reached Maud’s room. They paused a moment with uncertainty before coming in and shattering the last grain of silence. The girl sighed and stood up from the floor, her face a mixture of feelings. Albus Dumbledore gave her a sorrowful smile while Armando Dippet greeted her weakly.

‘I’m afraid, Maud, you know why we’ve come here, ‘started Dumbledore, rubbing his forehead to chase away the headache.

‘Yes, Professor. I heard mister Carpe…Is it really as he said?’ Maud’s lips quivered.

‘Yes, I am afraid it is as he had said.’

Maud frowned at the two men, her face screwed up in confusion. It was as if up until that moment, the entire morning had been just a dream, an abstract notion, or a far-fetched idea—something around which, in any case, the girl had successfully wrapped her mind as long as it had stayed a theory, nothing more. But now everything was brought to her reality and it hit her at full speed. Her eyes widened and her lips trembled as she shook her head, trying to free herself of it. That was not what it was supposed to be like. Everything was supposed to be temporarily. She would stay at Hogwarts for a while, blend in, not getting attached or feeling anything in particular until Dumbledore would’ve found out a way to retrieve her memories. She hadn’t signed in for any pain and she did not want it now. And the girls were almost strangers to her, so why was she so upset? Tears were streaming down her face as she let her own body drop to the ground, clenching the robes above her heart. It hurt. It hurt so much. _Why?_

‘What happened? How? Why?’ She looked up at Dumbledore who kneeled next to her, his hand resting on her shoulder, trying to send some comfort, some kindness through that simple gesture.

‘Belladonna McCormack must have put you under some kind of sleeping charm so you wouldn’t wake up. She lured the other two into the Dark Forrest and brutally murdered them. When caretaker Carpe found her, the madness within her crumbled for a moment, enough for her to realize what she’d done. She couldn’t bear it. Maud, did you notice anything strange about Belladonna lately? Did you hear anything?’

‘No…’ Maud shook her head. ‘There is no way…no…That girl was not mad. Why would she do such a thing, Professor? She was perfectly alright on Sunday, when we all went to bed. Why would she…?’ Her voice was filled with anger and denial. There was simply no possible way that she had shared a room with a lunatic and not know it up until the very last moment. Maud was not thick and she could see it in Dumbledore’s eyes as well—the doubt, the clear thinking.

‘Some say she drank a potion of some kind gone awfully wrong,’ whispered Dumbledore as she helped the girl stand up, now that she was calming down.

‘But she doesn’t take Potions, sir. I doubt she would have drunk some potion out of curiosity…’

‘Well then, we will leave you to rest, Maud. ‘He turned towards the door, his eyes stopping for a moment on the empty cage. Dippet was already waiting outside.

‘I do not like this, Albus. When has this magnificent sanctuary become such a dark place?’ They were now outside the Gryffindor common room, heading towards Dippet’s office. ‘I thought last year that everything had passed, that what had happened to that poor girl had been just a nightmare…’

‘But that was no mere nightmare, Armando. I’ve told you my concerns.’

‘Yes, Albus. And you know I very much respect your opinions. However, you are wrong on this occasion. Young mister Riddle is no more than a brilliant, hard-working student. I hope you do not intend to pin this affair on him too. ‘Headmaster Dippet waved his hand at a section of stone wall which glided away, revealing a passageway leading to his office. The men stepped in, letting the large tiles conceal them once more.

‘I would not put it past him, Armando. This time, however, I will agree with you—Tom Riddle was not part of this monstrous affair. But there are darker forces at work, rest assured.’

‘Need I remind you of the terrible coincidences? The fact that such atrocity might happen in the second week of this year’s term, just as that girl arrives here? We know nothing about her, Dumbledore, yet you so eagerly dismissed the possibility that she might be behind everything. Are you sure you aren’t letting anything distort her image in your eyes?’

‘I trust her,’ said Dumbledore with a disarming simplicity in his voice. He was looking out the window, deep thoughts crossing his face at an incredible speed. ‘I will keep an eye on her, do not worry.’

‘She is not your responsibility, Albus.’ Dippet’s voice was tired, old even…

‘I have brought her into this world, took her from the gates of this castle. She **is** in my care.’

‘No, she is not, dear friend. If anything, you’ve made her a personal responsibility yourself. Do not let the past rule over your future. I know that you feel the need to protect her, but you cannot wash away your guilt through her. She is not Arianna. She is a scared, unknown—possibly dangerous—child. Do not let your emotions cloud your judgement.’

‘I assure you, Armando, I am not letting my judgement be clouded; by anything, or anyone.’ He walked towards the door, his face hidden in the shadows. He left the office without another word to the Headmaster. As he turned left on the corridor, his half-moon spectacles caught in a candle’s light. His eyes were dancing in pain and guilt, drowning his penetrating gaze.

_I trust her,_ Dumbledore thought as he surveyed the patch of grey sky visible through a nearby window. A black dot with red and golden reflections was chasing a cloud.

 

                                    *

 

Humans are incredible beings. Their entire nature depends upon the battle they carry out inside of them, between the good and the bad. And the outcome of that battle is subject entirely to their ability to feel, to react to those around them, to grow and to fall accordingly.

They feel, therefore they are humane. And therefore, they have allowed themselves the privilege to be called humans. Throughout bloodsheds and births, they have kept this name, despite the outcome of that fundamental battle. The scale might tip in favour of the bad, or it might push them towards a flickering white light—whatever the result when they draw the line, they would still have felt something, anything, and because of that, they have remained human. Haven’t they?

Odd thing, the notion of good and evil, dark and light. Because, in spite of the battle, they never belong to just one side. However, this was debatable when it came to Tom Marvolo Riddle. One would think that, after everything he had done so far, he would have been the proud owner of the dark side. A child, born from a loveless trick would not be able of that one redeeming sentiment that makes us all humans in the end: love.  One would say a man like that, drenched in power and the blood of hundreds—a soulless, heartless man—had distanced himself from that flickering white light as much as possible. And yet…

There are no words in this world to describe the workings of the Universe, even that of magic itself. There is Dark Magic, and then, there is the good kind, the pure, and even the grey one. Power corrupts and magic is blackened—or it births love, humility, and compassion. It is a double-edged sword and one can never know what side will claim one’s life.

**_*****_ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

Upon seeing the three bodies, Tom Riddle did not even flinch. His heart gave no imperceptible quiver, his eyes did not darken with the horror of the scene, not even for one fleeting second. He remained a block of ice, a sour taste on his tongue. That was a poor example of what could be achieved with magic. That girl deserved to die for her sheer stupidity alone, and not for murdering her friends. It was, however, a bit amusing to think such darkness, such madness, could have befallen the proud, valiant house of Godric Gryffindor.

‘Tom?’

‘Yes, Headmaster?’

‘Go to the Prefects, make sure they stop anyone from entering the Forbidden Forrest without being accompanied by a teacher. They are to be held responsible if any other students will be found lurking around. Then go to the Owlery and send word to the parents…Actually…We’d better inform the Ministry as well. Go first to Professor Mantibone, he’ll write the letters. Understood, my dear boy?’

‘Understood, Sir.’ He turned on his heels and vanished behind the dark trunks. For once, his Death Eaters were not to blame for the bloodshed. _Hmm, there is quite a potential for the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, after all. That Gryffindor must have been hexed by someone truly dark to have had such an effect on her._

**_._ **

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Maud came to despise sleeping in that room. The silence felt unnatural, stiff and toxic and she couldn’t muster enough concentration to do anything. Because of that she decided to spend as little time as possible in there, adopting the Gryffindor common room instead. At first, she spent most of her time curled up in a ball, reading _the tales of Beedle the Bard_ , in an armchair. But the common room had lost some of its cheerfulness as well, and people kept looking at her and pitying her or, worse, blaming her. But as the days slithered by and the parents of the girls had come to the castle to make some sense of the madness that had suddenly possessed their lives, it became clear to her that it will be a long time before things would return, at least apparently, to their previous state.  However, until that happened, Hogwarts had been transformed into an architectural reminder of death and pain.

There was really no place in that ridiculously immense castle where Maud could hide from it all. Yes, she was a coward. She preferred to run away from whatever it was she could not deal with, or change in any way. It drove her mad to not be able to see the truth about what had happened to her roommates—because she was certain there was more to that story, far more, than met the eye. If there was one thing she found to be more difficult than loss, it was coping with her current state of powerlessness. And, therefore, she found solace in a coward’s favourite activity: running away. When everything became too much to deal with, she turned to Dumbledore’s map and explored every inch of the castle, sometimes missing dinner or lunch because she would get lost in some distant wing, from where it took her hours to find her way back. It was pure oblivion…and beyond that— it was tranquillity. The morbid kind, which came from one’s adjustment to the unwavering darkness that accompanied death, but it was peaceful nonetheless.

And so it was that, when September fluttered away with the last of that year’s rusty leaves, Maud had discovered her most precious part of the castle. She had avoided human interactions as much as possible that month—even Tom— having the naïve belief that they might die on her as well, just from her mere proximity. She smiled and maintained an amiable aura, but as soon as the occasion arose, she would slip away and hide on some distant floor. It was better that way, she would tell herself, she did not belong with them. The only reason she was there was because Dumbledore had promised to help her. Maud kept hoping he would come to her one day after Transfiguration and give her a potion of some kind that would jog her memory.

But that day—if ever there would be such a thing—crawled at the speed of a snail from some time in the distant future, or so it would seem. And before it would arrive, Maud had reached that one, truly deserted, place in the castle, where nothing and no one could bother her. Not even Emryk would follow her there—not that she would have let him wander around the castle in broad daylight with her.

The Boathouse was the perfect refuge for her. It was used only once a year, when first-years were brought to the castle, via boats. A large, stone staircase, which seems to be part of the cliff, connects the docks to the cloister that houses the Chamber of Reception and the Viaduct Courtyard. Apart from this, there are three other ways of accessing the Boathouse: the path outside the Quad, through the shortcut behind one’s Percival Pratt portrait, which leads to the Great Staircase, or, through the potentially more dangerous lake—that is when not by boat and guarded by the Gamekeeper—.

The building itself was quite impressive, having almost sixty feet in height, it’s immense stone walls guarding large windows on which the water reflected most spectacularly. At night, the stars would glimmer playfully, lighting up the lake and transforming the glass into a canvas of lights and shadows. And it was always quiet, regardless of whatever clamour would reverberate through the castle’s large corridors. Its large archways were a work of art in itself, and even the tiniest stone tile that adorned that place had the most intricate and almost imperceptible of patterns, unless one pressed one’s cheek against the floor or the walls to better comprehend it. It was truly the forgotten masterpiece of Hogwarts.  Even the portrait of Percival Pratt seemed quite oblivious to the marvel that surrounded him, always snoozing lightly on his secluded wall.

Maud could escape the world above while in there, amongst the subtle jingles of bobbing boats and the gentle ripples of water, occasionally spilling over the edge, darkening small patches of yellowish stone. She would sit down there for hours, reading, studying, dreaming about better times, about long-buried memories of people she would likely never meet or hear, of happenings that would lose their meaning in the stream of hurried seconds, never to be retrieved…not to her, at least.


	9. Black

**_Chapter 9 -Black_ **

****

Tom Riddle was absent-mindedly running his long fingers through his hair, all the while stroking his wand in an almost gentle manner. He was staring into the black cauldron which was exuding a peculiar looking foam. The potion was nearly done, however, he frowned, a subtle note of displeasure hidden in his eyes. He could hear Maud stumbling through ingredients while desperately trying to keep her long locks out of the way. It was a miracle how she ever managed to produce any decent potions when she always seemed two steps away from an accident, the way she handled vials and ingredients. Nevertheless, she survived, hardly, but she survived…

He felt her sigh of relief travel through every pore of her body, before he heard it, such was the ordeal she went through every hour in Potions. In a way, it was quite extraordinary—the level of annoyance that subject could awake in her. Tom sometimes wondered how she kept herself from blasting away the cauldron every time she was required to brew something.

He was, deep down, unmistakeably crossed with her. Maud had been ignoring him ever since her three roommates had spontaneously murdered each other. He did not try to engage in a conversation with her. No, that was not something he would ever feel like doing, seeking someone who had turned away from him. Such things were beneath him. Nonetheless, it bothered him.

She was the one to throw herself to him, demanding they be friends. She had come to him, not the other way around. Therefore, how dared she turn her back to him? Him?? The one who would soon sear himself onto the hearts and minds of all living creatures as the DARK LORD? Dared she ignore him? HIM?

He clenched the edge of the chair with his hand, crushing his fingertips into the wood while he felt his insides boiling up with rage.

No, he would not confront her. He had refrained from talking to her a whole month, he did not care for her pathetic reasoning, nor did he care for her entire existence, actually. So he packed his bag and made his way through the waves of people, not glancing at her for even an instant. Instead, he made it his sole purpose to throw murderous looks at innocent passers-by.

‘Milord…I have sent the letter as you requested,’ breathed a tall, slender young Slytherin as he slithered next to Tom.

He looked at the blonde with apparent disinterest, his mood not improved in the slightest.

‘And?...’

‘And you will have it by the end of the month.’ The tall blonde would have spread the same aura of coldness as his master, had his voice not shaken slightly when he replied to Tom.

‘Good, Malfoy,’ said Tom, not a shadow of satisfaction in his voice when he strode away from the Slytherin, the sound of his words passing into a mere whisper as more and more students came in between master and servant. He had been tempted to hex Malfoy just to blow off some of that annoying feeling inside of him, but he resisted. There was much that boy could do for him and he was not about to waste it because of an infuriating little Gryffindor.

He needed something to clear his mind and the Forbidden Forrest would provide just that.

* * *

****

Maud was on her way to the Boathouse when she spotted Tom taking long strides across the lawn. The grounds were bathing in a reddish light emanating from a dying sun, seeping through dark branches of twisted trees, announcing a cold and lonely night. She stopped in her tracks, unsure. Her feet were tinkling longingly after the path he was following, but her heart was shrinking with the distant memory of pain. She was afraid of something, yet she could not make out of what exactly. Not him… Still, she did not move, watching him throw his legs with elegant fury, rushing towards an unknown destination.

‘But I don’t want to be alone anymore… If I’ll let fear keep me cooked up in the castle any longer, I may very well throw myself off the Astronomy Tower,’ she whispered to herself with a kind of scared determination one sees only in those too afraid to remain in the same state of fear for too long—for it might consume them whole.

So she did the only thing she really wanted—she ran towards Tom before he would fade away from her, before she would have to spend another day too afraid.

Tom did not turn around at her calling after him. He did not turn around when she reached him. He did not turn his head when she tugged at his robes, just like a little child would do. He ignored Maud the best he could, because the moment he would look at her, his anger would rush out of him, and the hit would most certainly be too much for her.

‘Hey! Why aren’t you answering me?’ Maud was looking at him with confusion.

‘I have better things to do than to entertain childish Gryffindors,’ replied Tom, his cold voice freezing every particle of air it met in its way.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ Maud stopped in front of him, blocking the path. Still, he did not lower his eyes to look at her.

‘Why are you ignoring me? Look at me!!’ He remained unmoved, every muscle under his robes tense. Maud pulled his robes once more, trying to make him look at her. Tiptoeing did no good either.

‘Toooom!’ she half sighed half shouted, her fragile hands still clinging to his robes. Tom’s eyes widened as he looked down at her, a mix of feelings flashing over his perfect features. He took one step back to shake her hands off of him. It was the first time she had spoken his name…And it was strange.

‘I am not in the mood to entertain you, now that you suddenly feel like re-joining the human world. And stop clinging to my robes.’ Maud let go of him and tilted her head, not understanding him.

‘Re-joining the human world? But where have I been?’

‘You ask me?’ Tom straightened his robes, his eyes still on her.

‘Well…you are the one who said that I re-joined the human world. But I don’t understand. I’ve been here the whole time.’ She was frowning at him. Tom rolled his eyes and walked past her, down the hill, towards his destination. Maud, however, ran after him.

‘At least tell me where you’re going.’ She was looking at him with hopeful innocence.

‘That is none of your business,’ he replied coldly.

‘Please!’ she whispered, loud enough for him to hear and turn around slowly, in time to catch her looking miserably at her feet.

‘I am not your pet! I am not some imbecile who will entertain you when you’re down or bored, only to be thrown away when it suits you!’ Tom’s entire being was blazing with fury as he stepped towards her, menacingly cold, calculate and deadly, in spite of the storm within. Maud shot her head up, more upset than afraid, more hurt than angry.

‘I never said or acted like that! That’s not how friends regard each other. And where’s all this anger coming from? What on earth have I done to you to make you so angry? If I recall correctly you have been ignoring me for the past month!’ She crossed her arms and raised her chin in a defying manner. Tom laughed. It was the most beautiful and frightening laugh Maud had ever heard, but she held her ground and did not bulge from where she was standing, as imposing as she could.

‘I? I have been ignoring you? I? You dare say I am the one who has been ignoring you? You pathetic child. You aren’t even aware of your own actions. How does Dumbledore ever let you leave his side? It is clear you can’t handle the real world more than you can handle a simple sleeping potion. You came to me, all jolly and jumping up and down, wanting to be friends. And then, the same YOU stopped talking to me. You retreated into a cloud, as if you were above me! You puny, naïve creature!’

He was now inches away from Maud, towering over her, his magic seeping onto her, crushing hers, making her skin prickle. She had never seen his eyes so dark before.

‘You’re an arse,’ she replied, calm and not frightened in the least. Perhaps she had developed a kind of stupid recklessness one usually finds in corpses. ‘Just because I did not start a conversation, does not mean I was ignoring you. Maybe it meant that I was simply waiting for you to start it! You could have easily confronted me on the matter and not sulk your way into anger.’ She poked him in the chest, sighing, tired all of a sudden. He grabbed her finger, gripping it tightly and using it to yank her hand away from his chest. She shot her head upwards, tears gathering quickly in her eyes.

‘Tom, let go. You’re hurting me.’

Tom blinked in surprise yet again. Hearing the name he had grown to hate so much rolling off of her tongue gave him a weird feeling. He did not listen to her pleading voice, however, he did loosen the grip on her hand.

‘Tom…’ she repeated, this time with more determination as she used her other hand to try and pry herself free. He was too strong.

‘Tom, for Merlin’s sake. What are you doing?’ She kept trying to open his grip, finger by finger, but it was impossible. So she gave up and stared back at him, waiting patiently for his anger to subside.

Tom’s eyes were racing over her, scanning every inch, searching for something. His ears were still ringing with the sound of his name being spoken by her. It felt warmer than ever, almost as if it did not belong to him or his despicable father. He kept crushing her hand into his, trying to get some fear out of her, but all he could see on her face was a tinge of pain and discomfort, as well as confusion. Why wasn’t she crying and trembling with fear? Why wasn’t her heart racing in terror? Why wasn’t she obsessing over him the way other girls usually did, or at least avoid him out of fear? What was she after?

‘You are strange,’ he heard her say, waking him up from his reverie. ‘I’ve never seen someone react the way you do.’

Tom frowned, for the first time not knowing what to do. To let her go? She was staring at him; she had even stopped trying to free herself from his grip. Why? How could she not feel the need to run away from him or at least admire him with all her being? Why? Why??

The sun was slowly sinking behind the Forbidden Forrest, casting long shadows on the cold grounds. The light was changing from a deep, violent red, to the shivering hues of blue and purple, summoning the night. He could have her in detention for being outside at such a late hour, especially given the recent events. But he didn’t want to do that. No. What he felt was more frightening and powerful than anything else. Deep down, Tom Riddle was fighting the urge to kill her right there in the most savage way possible, enjoying every drop of her blood, every last breath, every shadow of pain that would fill her eyes. He felt his body tremble with delight at the thought. But there was also a part of him that was terrified by that idea, even angered by such monstrous images forming in his head. That part was also conflicted—between wanting her as far away from him as possible and wanting her right there, trapped in his grip, close to him. He wanted to study her reactions, her words, her emotions. He felt the need to keep her right by his side, but she also made him angry and frustrated and that’s why he wanted to either kill her in a most brutal manner or send her away. There were so many contradictions inside him, he did not know what part of himself to listen to. So instead, he took pleasure in squeezing her hand, holding her there while studying the waves of pain that washed over her eyes, feeling her pulse beat against his grip.

‘I’m sorry if you thought I ignored you on purpose. I was scared…’ confessed Maud, doubting Tom was present enough to hear her. But he was hearing her, every part of his being was concentrated on her. ‘The truth is…you were the last person I would have willingly ignored, it’s just… Well, I was… I was scared something would happen to you too. I know, it’s silly. I’m stupid.’

Tom tilted his head, fascinated. She was staring directly at his chest, watching it rise rhythmically from underneath the layer of black robes.

‘I hate being alone. And the only ones I ever feel like talking to are you and Dumbledore. I don’t fit in easily… I’m even starting to doubt that I want to. That’s why I forced myself onto you, dragging you in this fake friendship. I am truly terrified of being lost and alone, so I latched onto the only person that seemed different. Not that you’re weird! I can’t really explain it. You felt safe. You felt familiar. And I attach myself to anything that is even remotely familiar. But I see now that no matter what I do or how hard I try, I am lost, scared and alone… so I’ll leave you be.’ Tom let her hand go. It was red and was starting to swell. He watched her wrap her robes around her tightly, shivering in the wind as she turned around, walking slowly, tired and resigned, towards the castle. Without giving much thought to it, or even trying to find a shred of logic in his actions, he went after her, catching up with her in a few long strides. He grabbed her by the elbow, this time more gently, and turned her around.

‘Wrong direction. This way,’ he said, giving her his most charming smile. Her lost child speech and look brought back to him forgotten memories of cold and lonely days. And the only way he could chase them away was by changing the reminder, the one whose eyes had already lit up in surprise. He knew exactly what to do.  

And so, as the sky darkened and the black took over the grounds, two lost silhouettes entered the Forbidden Forest. 


	10. In which darkness brings out the light

‘We shouldn’t be here,’ said Maud clinging to his arm.

‘Do you trust me?’

‘No,’ she laughed.

‘Then why are you here?’ asked Tom giving her a devilishly handsome look.

She shrugged in reply, a smile playing on her lips. _Reckless. Deadly reckless._ They were going deeper and deeper into the dark forest. The trees were taller and the darkness thicker. And there were creatures lurking in the shadows, watching them, crawling underneath wild, twisted roots that spread across the ground like a deadly web, patiently waiting for them to trip and fall where the mist was ready to engulf them. Somewhere in the distance, a howl ripped its way to the sky, the sound sending a shiver down Maud’s spine.

‘Scared?’ smirked Tom feeling the girl shivering next to him. He sensed her shaking her head in response, but there were no words from her. This amused him greatly.

‘You are such a child,’ he laughed. This time, it was a less frightening laugh, but it was still a dangerous one.

‘Am not,’ replied Maud. She was trying her best to keep as close to him as possible, but the trees blocked what little light the moon was casting. They were surrounded by large trunks and strange, sometimes even terrifying, sounds. Still, they kept walking, Tom in the lead, his wand barely affecting the layer of mist mixed with the blackness of the night. The air was cold and heavy.

‘Ouch!’ a loud thud was accompanied by Maud’s painful cry. Tom turned around to see her on all fours on the ground, entangled in a mess of thick roots, her wand inches away.

‘How is that even possible? You had a wand, for Merlin’s sake!’ He was half amused, half exasperated as he walked towards her.

‘Well, not all of us were born in the dark, thank you very much. What are you? Half cat? It’s impossible to move like that in such conditions.’ He was laughing at her, obviously taking her remark as a compliment, while he picked her up and helped her steady herself. He then retrieved her wand and gave it back to her.

‘Come on, or else the sun will rise up again and we’ll still be in this exact spot.’ He took her by the hand to make sure she will not fall or lose herself on the way. He was rather enjoying himself.

‘Why do I feel you’re treating me like a child?’ pouted Maud, not really enjoying the pain in her arm—because Tom was dragging her by the same hand he had squeezed earlier that evening—or the cold and the general feel of the place they were wandering in.

‘Because you are one. And now stop rolling your eyes and move those child-like feet of yours.’ He pulled her hand harder, yanking her across a couple of ominous looking roots.

‘Ouch!’ she yelled, hitting his arm with her free hand. ‘It hurts! And contrary to popular belief, I don’t take nightly strolls in the Forbidden Forrest. Now, will you please tell me what are we doing here?’

Tom inhaled loudly, picking up his pace so as not to stop and rip her arm altogether. After a few more feet and frustrating sighs from her part, he turned around to face her. His face was filled with determination as he leaned towards her.

‘Trust me,’ he told her in all seriousness.

He watched as her wide eyes searched his face.

‘Alright.’

He resumed his hurried walk, her hand still in his, the pain still troubling her. But she did not say another word. She did not complain and she did her very best to not fall over some invisible being. And slowly, she could feel the excitement building up inside her.

Minutes that seemed like hours past as they walked without speaking. The only sounds that penetrated the silence were the echoes of their footsteps and those which belonged to the forest. Finally, Maud could make out a clearing in the distance, just as Tom stopped and turned to face her, blocking her view.

‘Close your eyes,’ whispered Tom, his voice ringing in the air, making the darkness tremble.

‘What?’ Maud looked at him disbelievingly.

‘You heard me, now close your eyes.’

‘No. I won’t be able to see where I’m going…I can’t,’ she replied, her voice laced with confusion.

‘You said you trust me. Prove it. Close your eyes, or go back to the castle.’

Maud stared at him. She was too curious to refuse him and he knew it. She closed her eyes and waited.

‘And now what aaa—….’ She did not get to finish her sentence because he picked her up, throwing her over his right shoulder. He kept his arm around her legs, to make sure she wouldn’t fall down, and headed towards the clearing.

‘Oh…so that’s how I’ll get there—wherever _there_ is,’ whispered Maud clenching Tom’s robes.

‘Don’t open your eyes until I say so.’

‘Anything you say. Just don’t drop me on my head.’ She was half giggling, half crying. That was the most uncomfortable way he could have chosen for her to travel through the Forbidden Forest. All she could think about was the moment she would feel the earth under her feet once more. And it could not come soon enough. She could hear Tom’s determined steps sink into the ground and his steady breathing cutting through the cold air. His muscles tensed with each painfully slow step. She gripped his robes even more tightly, trying hard not to think about the blood running to her head, pulsating there and making her ears throb.

‘I don’t like this…’

‘Shh…’ he replied, letting her down back on her feet in front of him. He kept his hands on her shoulders as he pushed her forward.

‘Keep your eyes closed, no matter what you hear,’ he whispered into her ear, a threatening edge to his voice. She nodded reluctantly but did not utter a word.

Tom kept his left hand on her shoulder while he used the other one to raise his wand towards the centre of the clearing. There was an ancient looking tree that seemed to be made entirely out of thick, twisted ugly roots that knotted themselves upwards into grey branches and twigs. It was massive. He flicked his wand and a loud gush of red light blasted towards the tree, hitting it at an incredible speed. There was a powerful booming noise, followed by the tree’s disintegration as it flooded the clearing in a torrent of flying golden fragments.

‘Open them,’ whispered Tom.

Maud opened her eyes to an exciting spectacle of lights and colourful rays dancing in the air, like fireflies. It looked like stars shooting inside the clearing, falling and rising at the same time, sparkling in the dark, their golden eating away the black.

‘This is amazing!’

She stepped closer, letting herself be engulfed by the storm of lights.

‘What is this?’ She turned towards him, beaming with delight.

He gave her a contemptuous look and walked towards her, turning her to face what appeared to be the eye of the storm.

‘This is a Unicorn corpse, blasted into millions upon millions of fragments.’

Maud looked at him horrified. He was smiling at her.

‘When a Unicorn is killed, its body becomes tainted by the darkness of the act. When it decays, the evil that has grown inside the Unicorn’s flesh spreads out, rising as a grey, ugly and twisted tree. If you kill it, then the last remains of the Unicorn’s purity gets blown into tiny freckles of light, creating this storm of rays.’

He was now standing by her side, watching her intently.

‘It’s beautiful…and sad. And cruel.’ She raised her hand, trying to catch a fragment of light. ‘Why did you bring me here?’ Maud turned to him. His eyes were twinkling and he was looking only at her, ignoring the spectacle of death entirely.

‘The same reason why you came. Curiosity.’

‘But this is horrible,’ she replied. Tears were prickling at her eyes and she used her hand to wipe them before they could slide on her cheeks. ‘Why would you show such a thing to me?’

‘Because I think it’s beautiful,’ he replied simply, apparently unmoved by her reaction.

‘It is…but…’

‘Then what is your problem?’ He stepped closer, their bodies inches apart, wordlessly daring her.

‘Tell me. What is your problem?’ Tom grabbed her chin and tilted her head up, forcing her to look at him.

‘Death,’ she replied with spite and pain. ‘Death is my problem, you cruel, insensible man.’

‘I am no such thing for merely blasting apart a corpse. I am not its killer, Maud.’

Maud’s heart stopped for a moment, her eyes widening in surprise. _Maud…He’s never called me by my name before. Maud…_

‘You’d rather I didn’t show you this?’

Tom was smiling. He had seen her reaction when he called her name. And he noticed the delight rising in her eyes as he did so…and the surprise. Sometimes, when someone spoke her name, he could see flashes of pain and sorrow gathering on her face. Sometimes, she looked a stranger to her own name, as though she wasn’t quite used to hearing it. It made him wonder all the more about her. He had never seen anything quite like it—someone who couldn’t fit, who was amiss, yet felt so…at home, just like Hogwarts felt. It vexed him in ways he wouldn’t even dare admit. Instead, he used every opportunity he could get to study her, test her, revealing her personality one tear at a time.

‘Answer me, Maud.’ He kept holding her chin up, forcing her to face him. He spoke her name slowly, enjoying every second of it, rolling his tongue around it, giving much more meaning to it. It sounded as a promise and a warning would when it parted with his lips. And there it was again: the fear, the pain, the sorrow...the confusion and the tinge of fascination—consuming her from within. Tom was mesmerized. He felt the need to toy with her, to explore every emotion and reaction in her. He wanted to open her up and see the mechanism behind, to figure her out.

‘You’re toying with me.’ She frowned and grabbed the hand that was holding her chin, squeezing it as hard as she could, putting all her anger in that gesture. ‘What are you trying to accomplish? Scare me? Annoy me? Well, at least in one thing you’ve succeeded because now I’m angry.’

Tom, however, was not in the least bothered by that idea. If anything, he was more excited than before. He had thought she would break down in front of him and cry, but she surprised him yet again. She tried to free herself of his grip, she confronted him. And it gave him tremendous pleasure, because she was but a child compared to him.

‘Oh, do tell,’ he replied, leaning towards her, towering over her like a hungry predator.

‘You think you’ll intimidate me with your height? Arghh! You bully!!’ She poked him in the chest to stress out every word in the sentence, putting all her strength into it. ‘I’ve had it with you! What do you want? To start yelling at you for showing me such a cruel, yet beautiful sight? You want me to cry in front of you? You want me to admire you? What? What do you want from me? Because I don’t get it.’

She yanked his hand away and took two steps backwards, finally being able to breathe from his magic.

‘I’ve said I wanted to be friends. Yet you act in the strangest way possible. I don’t know if I’m your enemy, your friend or you project.’

With every word spoken, the frustration inside her grew more and more, at the same time heating her magic up which was threatening to burst. She picked up a fistful of dead leaves and threw them at him in between howled words.

‘Make up your mind!’ she yelled just as the nearest trunk cracked. ‘Or otherwise, if you aren’t capable of that…STOP SHOWING ME EXPLODED CORPSES JUST BECAUSE YOU FIND THEM BEAUTIFUL!!’

She stomped her foot, causing all the leaves surrounding her to burst into flames. But she was too angry to even notice. All she could see was an unmoved Tom Riddle, who apparently found her feelings quite enjoyable and was watching her in silence, following her every gesture with interest.

‘And now you won’t even talk! I hate you!’ She kicked a heap of dead leaves and they too transformed into flames in mid-air, landing right in front of her. They spread out quickly, consuming everything in their way, surrounding her. This time, she noticed them. She stared in horror at them, trying to find a way to escape. But each time she thought she’d seen a hole in the blazing wall, they would rise up, higher and higher, until they were all she could see. The cackling noise and the smoke attacked her and, for a brief moment, she could see faces dancing in the flames, climbing and falling, yelling, crying and laughing at her. And she panicked.

‘Tom!’ she cried, her hand covering her face as the flames fed on her fear, expanding and devouring everything around her. ‘Tom…’ she whispered just as a wave of water collapsed on the dancing flames, suffocating them, restoring every patch of ground to its previous state of dryness and dirtiness. And he was there, in front of her again, towering her as before.

‘How could you be my enemy when you are so amusingly harmless?’ he smiled at her in his superior way and patted her on the head.

‘Come on. Let’s get back before you rip a hole in the forest.’

Maud wiped away a stray tear from her cheek, and followed him out of the clearing. ‘I still hate you,’ she replied frowning and shaking slightly.

‘No you don’t. I’m your friend,’ answered Tom smugly.

‘I can still hate you if you’re my friend.’

‘No. You can’t.’

He turned his head and smiled at her, pleased with himself.

* * *

* * *

****

‘Stop sulking. You are not a child,’ said Tom breaking the silence after a few minutes of walking through the soundless dark. It was unnatural for a forest to be that quiet at night. They were only a step away from one another.

‘….’

Maud did not utter a word.

‘Now you’re not talking to me?’ He stopped to look at her, his eyebrows raised quizzically. It was all still rather amusing to him. Maud had stopped as well, but was facing the other way. She had intended to make it clear for him that she would not speak to him until he seized being an insufferable man; however, she was now looking through the dark trunks, her heart hammering loudly against her ribcage. It was the only sound in a deadly still forest. It was not natural. She turned slowly towards Tom, prepared to voice her fears when she caught a glimpse of something moving towards them rapidly. The creature—whatever it was— was about to charge Tom. Without giving a moment’s thought, she raised her wand and directed towards it, sending a fiery light at it. Tom had already turned to face the danger, not even bothering to take out his wand.

The creature had taken a direct hit and vanished in the mist, whimpering painfully.

‘We should—’ But Maud did not finish her sentence as a howl coming right from behind her interrupted her, sending shivers down her spine. Before she could get a chance to turn around and face the werewolf, Tom had already snapped its neck with a flick of his hand.

‘Come on. This is no place for a child.’

He was perfectly composed, not one particle in him showing any sign of fear. It was just another night time stroll for him. He kept close to Maud, however, making sure she would not fall and remain behind as food for werewolves. That would be a horrible waste.

‘Are there more?’ whispered Maud, looking cautiously around her, her ears prickling with anticipation.

‘Definitely. You have no idea how vast this forest is. Stay calm, we’re almost out of here.’

She was partially calm. Mostly because of his composure—he seemed almost incapable of feeling fear—, but also because she clawed her right hand to his robes, keeping him next to her. If she had dared look away from the tree trunks, she would have seen a smirking Tom Riddle with a playful glint in his eyes. She kept throwing looks over her back, imagining the two werewolves getting up and running towards them, their long, disgusting tongues liking their sharp teeth, their claws digging silently into the ground. She thought if she could concentrate enough, she would hear them, or at least feel the earth’s faint vibration chasing them. But Tom kept a calm, steady pace and there were never anymore sounds, other than their own feet’s and her racing heartbeat.

‘You can relax now,’ laughed Tom after a while. ‘We’re here.’ Indeed, Maud could see the castle’s lights flickering through thick branches and she sighed, her hand still clinging to his robes.

‘You are not a good Head Boy. Good Head Boys don’t lure girls into the Forbidden Forest to show them exploded corpses,’ she smiled weakly, too tired to put much effort in that attempt at a joke.

‘I don’t remember luring you anywhere. You practically begged me to take you with me.’ Tom looked at her, the corners of his mouth twitching as their feet dug into the wet, grassy hill. But Maud’s eyes were dropping and she could feel her throat sore from the cold and the yelling. It had been a most eventful day for her. Too tiring to even think about it right then. So she let the silence answer for her and picked her pace up, trying to keep up with Tom whose lively strides did not seem to match her lack of energy.

‘Merlin’s beard, do you run on injured werewolves or what? How come you have so much energy?’

They had entered the castle and Maud was rubbing her eyes, trying to stay awake enough to climb the stairs to the Gryffindor tower. He did not answer to her. He was too busy looking for something—or someone—in the entrance hall.

‘Well then. I’ll go to bed, before I collapse on the stairs. Goodnight, Tom.’

If he said something back, she did not notice. She was too busy trying not to fall asleep while listening to the echoes of her own steps.

And as Maud climbed the stairs to the Gryffindor Tower, Tom Riddle made his way to the dungeons, a wicked smile on his lips. Outside, the clouds gathered around a bright full moon, partially obscuring it. The forest had grown restless once more.

Maud collapsed on her bed and fumbled with her blanket, every inch of her body shivering. Somewhere, in one corner of her mind, nightmares were gathering like clouds before a storm, darkening her vision and eclipsing recent memories. 


	11. The Cold Grey Light

****

****

_‘Shhh…don’t cry…’_

_‘Little one, don’t cry…’_

_‘No one is ever truly lost, little one…know that…’_

_‘…remember…’_

_‘Never forget…never forget…your heart…--’_

_‘Little one…’_

_‘…you are precious…’_

_‘Little one…’_

_‘…my little one…’_

_‘…’_

‘Miss Wulfric! …Maud!’ Dumbledore grabbed Maud’s hand and took her wand which had been aimed at a black kettle for the past ten minutes. Only now said kettle was growing dangerously fast into a thick, dark tree whose branches were reaching out towards the ceiling. They were supposed to turn it into a black bird, however, somewhere along the chanting road Dumbledore had described to them, Maud had gotten terribly lost and, instead of making the object in front of her grow feathers, it sprung something else entirely. She had lost herself to the mesmerizing sound of her mental voice chanting the spell and had wandered off into a labyrinth of somewhat familiar voices which gave life to snippets of sentences. But the pain inside her paralyzed her and she lost control of her magic which was spilled out with the fury of an oppressed beast. It lashed out into that dark tree of fury and sorrow. Even Maud’s eyes were filled with tears that reflected those same emotions and they streamed down her face, nurturing the pain in her chest and her throbbing head. It did not stop when Dumbledore took hold of her wand, nor when he made the tree vanish with a quick swish of his hand. The voices kept clashing inside her head, calling up forgotten glimpses of blue eyes or blonde hair—even fragments of places she thought she had seen once, in a dream. But whatever part of those illusions she recognised disappeared quickly, buried underneath the weight of all she felt. Her vision blurred and her fingers searched desperately for something to hold on to. They met some dark robes and clawed themselves to them, not letting go.

Professor Dumbledore forced her onto her feet and steered her towards the door, dismissing the class. He had hoped to get her out of there as fast as possible, but her hands had entangled themselves to the robes of one Tom Riddle, who looked just as displeased by it as Dumbledore. However, surprisingly enough, he did not manage to pry himself free from her grasp and was forced to follow them towards Dumbledore’s office.

‘What is happening to her, professor?’

Dumbledore’s eyes left the corridor for a fleeting moment, enough to catch a glimpse of Tom’s expression. It did not say much, apart from one shade which took the professor by surprise. For a few seconds, Dumbledore was sure he had seen an inkling of something resembling worry on Tom’s face. However, when he looked back at him there was nothing but the usual cold calmness dominating his features.

‘I believe she has a seizure of some sort,’ replied Dumbledore after a few seconds of calculated silence.

That was a lie, they both knew it. It was clear to Dumbledore as he pushed the two students through his office door that Maud couldn’t be any farther from a seizure. She had remembered something. There was no other explanation for the paralyzing shock reflected in her eyes—a shock which rendered her limbs hard as stone, so much that when they seated her, Tom had to sit down as well in order to keep his robes intact.

Dumbledore hurried to his cupboard, fearing the dots that were being connected that very moment in Tom’s mind. There were only so many things one can conceal in such a situation…

He took out the Pensieve, determined to retain as many memories as possible from the girl’s mind before they would fade away completely.

Tom watched as Dumbledore retrieved his wand, placing its tip to Maud’s forehead. He was drawing a silvery strand of memories from her temple when she woke up from her catatonic state, her eyes wide and as dark as a murderous night—a shade Tom doubted could belong to anyone’s eyes. She pulled his robes, dragging him closer but she seemed unaware of their presence.

‘No! I’m not…’

Her eyes kept staring into space and she was fighting to catch her breath as if she had been running for the past hour without a stop. Tom grabbed her hands and forced them off of him, holding them at bay so as to avoid another attack. He glanced at Dumbledore suspiciously as he was dropping the silvery strand into the Pensieve. He looked considerably older in that eerie light.

‘I don’t want… I don’t…’

Tom’s grasp tightened in frustration. He could not stand half spoken sentences with no logic that failed miserably to convey anything. So he ignored Dumbledore’s equally infuriating presence and poured himself into Maud’s eyes, diving for a second time into her mind. However, this time it was filled with so much emotion, so much painful memories that he was thrown back, his access denied. There was simply no more room for his own probing consciousness. Her mind was bursting with snippets of blurry images and incoherent fragments of conversations. But before retreating, Tom could taste the overwhelming sensation of her mind and it was unlike anything he had ever seen while performing Legilimency on someone. It was maddening—hearing all those voices, feeling all those things at the same time, the love, the pain, the hurt…the desperation and the fear.

‘Please, professor…’ begged Maud as Tom left her mind. ‘It hurts.’ There were fresh tears on her cheeks accompanying the fear that haunted her features.

‘Tom, let her go.’ Dumbledore was once more next to Maud and he was speaking in a calm, calculated voice, but his eyes were as cold and hard as a stone in winter.

Tom dropped her hands from his grasp and stood up.

‘What is wrong with her…professor?’ His tone was half mocking half threatening. She was his toy now and he could not stand having it broken before even starting to play…

‘Wrong, Tom? There is nothing wrong with her. She is merely exhausted. Life at Hogwarts can be quite straining sometimes.’

The old man smiled at him while kneeling next to Maud. He put his hands to her temple in a soothing gesture.

‘There is no point in lying to me, professor. She is not who she claims to be, that much is clear. Is she even related to you? She seems a bit too lost to me…’

Tom’s face was a monument of emotionlessness. It was clear to him now that Maud was a mystery to herself just as much as she was to everyone else.

‘Who is she?’

The coldness in his voice brought a shiver down Maud’s spine as she calmed down, starting to properly register what was happening around her.

‘She is Maud… She is a scared, lost girl, Tom. An orphan, perhaps. Not unlike yourself.’

Dumbledore stood up and turned back to Tom, his eyes heavy and sad.

‘You’d better remember that, Tom.’

Maud extended her arm and grabbed Dumbledore’s sleeve, which made both of them look at her.

‘Water…please,’ she whispered, her eyes glassy.

Dumbledore summoned a cup from his desk and conjured water for her. Maud took the cup with trembling hands and stared into it. She sipped timidly, her ears ringing with her own heartbeat.

‘I lost them...,’ she said after a while. They had both sat down next to her, almost resembling two guarding angels. Almost, but not quite. Part of her imagined them as two predators, starving and in need of her to survive. What a far-fetched idea, the more sensible part would retort.

‘Who did you lose, Maud?’ Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair, his hands resting reassuringly on her knees. Maud pushed her chair backwards, edging away from both of them. She looked up at Dumbledore, at Tom, her eyes crisp.

‘My memories. I shut them away.’

‘Why?’ asked Tom, his face bright in fascination. He could see the pain and fear in her. He could see the terror making her back away from all living things. And he could feel her innocence flickering for a brief moment when the darkness took over the room as a large cloud passed over the sun, obscuring its light. There was something quite unique about her magic. And it appealed to the predator within him.

‘Because they hurt. And…and…and I don’t know what I’ve done. Have I run away? Or was I chased? I am lost…so so lost. I am truly lost.’

Dumbledore watched her look at Tom with her eyes wide in honest fear. She was the lost little girl one reads about in stories. And he couldn’t help but feel that there was no one searching for her. Maud obviously thought the same way and elected to abandon all remnants of memories for fear the pain they would bring would be considerably heavier than any she was suffering from already by not remembering. And by what Dumbledore could observe, Tom was feasting upon her apparent vulnerability. He was quite fascinated by her turmoil, almost to a point that he seemed obsessed with Maud. A sick, twisted and hurtful obsession, one in which her pain only added to his pleasure. It made Dumbledore’s blood boil. How dared he…with such an innocent, vulnerable little girl. With something so pure…

Dumbledore rose from his chair and went to the back of his office, a separate room where he kept most of his books and strange instruments. If he had remained there for a moment longer, he would have hexed that self-centred boy into oblivion. He closed his tired eyes, the subtle wrinkles on his face curling up with the pain he shared with Maud. He felt it deep, in one small corner of his heart where he had buried it long ago. And he also felt Tom’s hunger for power, the actual source of his obsession for Maud. He had seen its darkness a not too long time ago. His younger self had let it corrupt the most pure creature in his life. _Not her… not again…_

 

Maud was curled up in her chair, uncertain of what she should do or say. Tom had stood up soon after Dumbledore left the room. His gaze had not parted with her face.

‘How can lost memories—memories about which you know nothing—torture you so? How can you let yourself be crippled by such a thing?’ Tom was now near her, his shadow covering her trembling form.

‘I don’t know. It just…hurts so much. Not knowing where…where I belong. Who I truly am. It infuriates me and it makes me want to rip a hole into this world and fall through it, never stopping, never remembering. Always forgetting…myself and everything.’

‘So you are a coward. You indulge yourself in this pathetic state. You’re a waste of magic. That’s what you are. You make me sick.’ He whispered into her ear, the venom pouring into her blood stream, poisoning everything in its way.

‘I am not,’ she replied jumping off her chair. ‘I just hate hurting so much from something I don’t even know! I hate nightmares! I hate being lost!’ She pushed Tom away from her, her force not nearly enough to make him so much as stumble.

‘Yet you constantly run away from the truth.’ His face was a mask of disgust. ‘You hate all those things yet you don’t even try to alter your current state.’

‘Stop it!’ she replied as anger boiled inside of her, making her skin prickle with magic. The air was filled with static and the windows were trembling slightly.

‘That’s all you are ever going to do, isn’t it? Pleading for others to stop. Shielding yourself behind shaky, moody magic. Not an ounce of thought behind your actions, or discipline—’

‘That is not true!’ She yelled, pushing him once more, this time aided by her magic which was bursting in rivers of golden light, exploding around her, making vials and mirrors shatter, destroying instruments and setting papers on fire—all aimed at Tom. She was trembling and crying and yelling at the same time. She was channelling everything she ever felt against Tom, taking it all on him.

‘I am not a coward!’ she screamed between sobs.

Dumbledore hurried out of the back room into his office, mid destruction process. Maud resembled a dying sun, spilling out all that energy and light and force, pouring her anger onto everything that surrounded her, drowning everything in fire. Tom, on the other hand, was every bit the cold statue he always seemed to be. He walked slowly and gracefully through flying fragments of glass and burning bits of parchment, his face triumphant as he approached Maud. And as he reached her, there wasn’t one scratch on him, as if everything was exploding around him, purposefully avoiding his tall figure. He stretched his arms through the fire, fighting the destructive magic off, and embraced Maud, covering her entirely with his body. And everything stopped. The fire, the shattering glass, the crumbling instruments, it all froze as Maud calmed down, her tiny hands clinging to Tom’s robes.

‘Shh…little one,’ he whispered pleased while everything around them was being pieced back together to their original state.

‘I’m here. There is no need for you to run anymore. You are not lost…not now, not ever.’

Dumbledore stood on the flight of stairs leading up to the back room and he was mesmerized. He had been unable to move from that spot for the last couple of minutes, observing that astonishing scene. Was that the same Tom Riddle? The same boy who so ruthlessly opened up the Chamber of Secrets to purge Hogwarts of all its unworthy students? Had he, for once, done something good for others? Had he, really? Or had he merely acted in the name of his own perverted curiosity? To see how she would react to his stimuli? To see how much of her magic he could bend. In spite of his suspicions, Dumbledore couldn’t help but wonder if that had been Tom’s minuscule humane side. He might have acted selfishly, but the result seemed all in Maud’s favour. He provoked her so she could release all those emotions, before they would burst inside her and cripple her for the rest of her life. He had woken her up, breaking her fear and forcing her to give up all the darkness that was clotting inside her, brought up by that surge of memories. Tom had done what Dumbledore himself would not have had the heart to do. He pushed her off that cliff of fear and brought her back.

‘I think you’d better get her to bed, mister Riddle.’

‘Yes, professor,’ replied Tom nodding politely. He kept his hand around Maud as he walked her towards the door and into the corridor—she was no longer clinging to his robes.

Dumbledore watched as the two of them left the office. He was more than ever worried and uncertain of what the future would bring. As soon as the door closed behind them, he collapsed on one of his comfy chairs, his hand covering an aged face. Tom Riddle worried him. Maud was dangerously intriguing for him and he could see the boy hesitating in his approach towards her. He seemed to oscillate between murderous obsession and protective concern. What troubled Dumbledore immensely was not being able to predict Tom’s final decision.

…

…

The moment the two of them stepped out into the corridor, Maud left Tom’s side, freeing herself from his arm. He looked at her annoyed and surprised at the same time.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Walking,’ she replied, her face sickly pale. She was cold no matter how tightly she wrapped her robes around herself.

‘I can see that,’ said Tom making one step towards her before she dodged him once more. ‘Why are you avoiding me?’ His jaw was clenched and she could see the patience draining from his face.

‘I am not avoiding you. It’s called walking. I am walking towards the Gryffindor Tower.’ And to point that out, she kept on walking, her head down. She heard Tom pick up his pace. He grabbed the back of her robes and pulled her towards him, but she kept her gaze on the ground.

‘And what do you call this continuous stare at your own two feet? Feet gazing?’ His voice was a low grumble of annoyance and danger.

‘It’s called trying to get into bed before the sun properly sets and rises. Twice,’ she replied, equally annoyed as she lifted her gaze. Her face was alarmingly pale and she looked sick.

‘You don’t look so well,’ remarked Tom frowning. He grabbed her chin to study her. She was burning up.

‘Yeah, well, thanks. Neither do you.’

He let her go before he could snap her neck.

‘You have a fever. You’d better get to the Hospital Wing before doing anything else.’

And with that he turned on his heels, leaving Maud all alone on that deserted corridor. She sighed in relief and hurried towards the stairs which led to the Gryffindor Tower, having no intention to stop by Madam Creavey. There was no need for Tom to tell her she had a fever, she could feel her own skin burning and every bone in her body ached. All she wanted to do was to crash into a soft, warm bed, away from mood-swinging bastards.

…

‘Oy! Maud! Hogwarts to Maud! Do you hear me?’ Arthur was yelling at hear from across the table, trying to get his voice past the collective chatter that rose towards the enchanted ceiling. The Great Hall had never been so lively for quite some time.  They were all excited for another Hogsmeade weekend. All but a few…

‘Hmm? Yes. Sorry. What were you saying?’ Maud looked up from her untouched oatmeal, a frail smile on her lips. She was so tired despite having slept undisturbed for twelve hours straight.

‘I was asking you,’ beamed Arthur, ‘no, actually, I was stating to you the fact that you’re coming with us tomorrow. To Hogsmeade, that is. And there is no way you’re getting out of this. Stop hiding away and start living, girl!’

His energy was contagious. It was a wonder how he managed to sit down without bouncing off his chair every five seconds.

‘Where’s all that energy coming from?’ giggled Maud, too tired to pull off the sound of a healthy laugh.

‘Have you looked out the window recently? It’s stopped raining!’

‘Yeeeeeeeeeeesssssss,’ she laughed in reply because she would never have imagined someone being so excited over such a boring thing called weather. ‘However, you do realize it’s just weather and even if it’s stopped raining, it’s considerably colder outside, don’t you?’

‘Details.’ And he waved the matter off, his good spirit not faltering in the least. ‘So, missy. Tomorrow, I’ll expect to see you down here as soon as you wake up. And don’t you even try to get yourself out of this, do you understand? You’ve been dodging fun for enough time already. Got it?’

‘Aye aye, captain Sunshine.’ And she tried to salute him in a military style but forgot she had a spoon in her hand and hit herself in the forehead with it, making him laugh even more heartily—if that was even possible.

‘Please don’t injure yourself with a spoon. I might die from laughteeer ahahahaha…’ And with that, Arthur rose from his seat, almost falling over, convulsing dangerously with laughter. He steered himself with great difficulty towards the other end of the table, where some younger Gryffindors were calling for him eagerly. Maud watched him go, scraping food from her face and hair, smiling at his trembling form. His enthusiasm was almost contagious.

She coughed and picked her bag up, leaving behind her untouched breakfast and the colourful table, making her way through streams of black robes with red, green, yellow, and blue details flickering off jovial chests. It was a general celebration of a most-awaited day without any storms or black clouds to gather in thick layers underneath the sun, filtering all light through the muddied spectre of a grey god. Still, it was a cold day and Maud shivered down the corridor and up a flight of stairs, heading with determination towards the library. It was time she studied Potions more diligently.

She preferred it that way. The only time she could actually find that subject appealing was when she read about it. So she set herself at a table in a more secluded area and opened up her Potions book, hell bent on being the best in class next week.

And as friendly chatter rose from outside the castle walls, Maud perused every book she had on advanced potion-making, letting hour after hour slip by unnoticed. She surrendered herself to words and ingredients and spells, forgetting everything else—the cold, the pain, the headache. And it was so much easier to give herself completely to something unrelated to her, to try and better herself at something which required skill and patience and could give back so much more. She had too little of the latter. She had too little of anything if she came to think about it. But she didn’t. That was what the library was for. Others. Not her. Other people’s words and wisdom, life and memories. She was there to live and learn through the experience of others.

Too soon, the clocks stroke eight and Maud was ushered away, with her books and her coughing. And while most of the long shadows danced on warm and dimly-lit walls towards dinner and the buoyant Great Hall, she hurried past them, to an empty, almost cold, Gryffindor Tower.

…

Next morning, Maud woke up to a chilly room. She dressed up shivering—a state in which she had fallen asleep the other night as well—and made sure she had at least one thick jumper on her. Taking her scarf and coat in one hand, she went down to the Great Hall for breakfast, every cell of her body aching for the warmth of her bed.

‘Maaaaud! Merlin’s beard, what took you so long? Come on, there’s no time to waste. Sun light is too precious for that. Here, have a sandwich on the go. Come on guys!’

Arthur handed her a small package containing ten sandwiches after which he pushed her towards the entrance, his smile broader than Professor Merrythought’s unusually colourful scarves. Behind them, Charlie was joyfully picking on Tilda, whose spotty cap turned heads wherever she went, followed in closely by Priscilla and Liam who were quite amused by the blonde’s reaction.

Maud decided to eat at least one sandwich before leaving behind the castle’s warmth for a dreadfully cold October day. She nearly choked on it, but she managed to finish it, nurturing the naïve idea that a not so empty stomach can protect her from the harsh winds. It was a child’s belief which was shattered as soon as they stepped into courtyard, the strong blows forcing her to put on her coat and wrap her scarf tightly around her neck.

‘What a lovely day!’ bellowed Charlie, his voice barely covering the wind’s wails.

‘Yes, yes it is, my dear Charles. Look at this sun!’ replied Arthur, patting his friend on the shoulder. They were both quite tall.

‘Are you both mad? Are we looking at the same sky? I’ve never seen a greyer sun in my life!’ Tilda was still pouting and she kept stuffing her head deeper and deeper into her cap, as though there was a fireplace inside that would warm her forehead up if she just tried a little.

‘The sun I could deal with. But the wind! It will blow me into pieces before we reach Hogsmeade,’ laughed Maud, a bit too tense to convince anyone of her good-humour.

‘Oh girls… Look at them, they complain about everything.’ And with that, Arthur went ahead, a bright smile on his lips, jumping, running, coming back to them again, almost like a dog trying to make his master see the beauty in the after-rain pools of mud. And sure enough, everybody—except Maud perhaps—had already decided to make the most of that day. Because of that, she faked her best laughs and put on an energetic façade, not wanting to spoil the other’s mood, but deep down, Maud was still coughing and shivering, still dreaming of gleaming fireplaces and hot beverages.

‘Sooo…where are we going exactly?’ she asked trying to keep up with them.

‘Onwards! Always and forever—onwards!’ replied a gleeful Arthur.

‘As in _The Three Broomsticks_ ,’ said Liam playing with his wand and creating small birds of red light.

Maud glanced over her shoulder longingly. Hogwarts had been consumed by the rocky hill, disappearing almost entirely behind the brown and the grey, only a fragment of the Astronomy Tower still rising valiantly into the sky.

After another fifteen cheerful minutes, the group arrived in Hogsmeade. They recognised a few other students, but the village was still struggling to lift itself up from the morning fog and there were not many wandering silhouettes on the main street. Shop windows were flickering timidly their yellow light and distant bells announced the early risers going about the shops in search of warmth, beer, sweets, books or simply good company.

Tilda and Liam ran off to the bookstore, promising to meet them back at the Three Broomsticks in no time, at which Charlie half grunted half laugh disbelievingly. Priscilla too decided to stop by a small Quidditch shop to buy something for her broomstick, leaving Maud, Arthur, and Charlie the exciting task of saving up a table for all of them.

 _The Three Broomsticks_ was, quite surprisingly, half full already. As soon as the door to the pub was opened, a thick cloud of smoke, laughter, and alcohol burst into the air, spreading around the building like a darker, indefinite form of a patronus. They scrambled through it, closed the door and chose one of the larger tables, near the window, which was usually avoided because of the draft. However, the three of them sat there, surrounded by the cheerful cacophony, Arthur and Charlie too enthusiastic for some reason to even notice the icy, subtle gust of wind finding its way between the glass and the wooden frame.

‘I’ll go get us some drinks. Three Butterbeers?’ asked Charlie getting up, his chair screeching painfully onto the floor but losing itself in the general bustle.

‘I’d rather have some tea…’replied Maud timidly.

‘What?!’ roared Charlie roaring with laughter, his massive chest shaking violently. ‘I’ll get you one hot Butterbeer. But you know what they say…when it’s cold outside, better drink something even colder and then you’ll feel just fine.’ And with that he left the table, leaving Maud quite confused.

‘I don’t get it…’ she confessed turning to Arthur who was still smiling.

‘Neither do I. Just do what I do. Pretend you do.’

‘But I don’t drink alcohol.’ Maud was turning around in her chair, an expression of wide-eyed general confusion on her face. She was hoping that playing with her scarf would stop her from feeling so little.

‘There’s barely any alcohol in a Butterbeer,’ laughed Arthur, putting his hand on hers to stop her fidgeting.

‘Still…I don’t get it. Why is everyone so happy and enthusiastic? Have you ransacked professor Slughorn’s stash of Felix Felicis?’

Arthur stared at her for a couple of seconds, obviously trying to read something into Maud’s behaviour, after which he burst into his most wild laughter yet. And the way he alternated between giggles and roars, slapping his hands and jumping in his chair, made her laugh as well, stupidly, like a child, and for no apparent reason whatsoever.

‘Oy! No fun without me at the table! Seriously, the manners on people these days. Tut-tut.’ Charlie put down the two bottles and handed the foaming tankard to Maud, more gently than he had thrown down his and Arthur’s drinks.

‘So…have you told her yet?’

Arthur choked on his beer, spilling out half of the bottles content on him. Cursing, he took out his wand and cleaned out the mess before throwing a murderous look at Charlie.

‘No you, bloody idiot. It’s a surprise!’ replied Arthur through gritted teeth.

Maud however did not understand the exchange, like many things that day and simply sipped her hot Butterbeer, looking innocently at the two of them.

‘Tell who what?’ she asked giving them a genuine smile. A hot beverage can go a long way in someone’s frozen heart.

‘Hm? Who what what? I have no idea. Nope.’ Charlie started to mumble to himself, his deep voice breaking off into a low hum at some point, all the while systematically avoiding the other two Gryffindors at the table. Eventually, he exclaimed relieved:

‘Look! The others are coming!’

He stared at his drink which had been finished from the first gulp and stood up briskly.

‘Better get some more drinks…’ he grumbled nervously. ‘Maud, another one?’

Maud looked up from her gigantic tankard and shook her head in reply. ‘This thing is bigger than my own head. I’m ok.’

And without looking up, Charlie left once more, just as Tilda, Liam, and Priscilla were coming to their table, their hands struggling with books and other irregular packages.

‘What did we miss?’ beamed Tilda sitting between Maud and Liam.

Arthur glanced quickly at Maud before finishing the last of his Butterbeer and turning to answer Tilda’s question.

‘Oh, a world of adventures really. And it all starts and ends with our beloved Charles. Remind me, Tilds, never to share any secrets with him. He’s like a kid with a cauldron, just dying to throw ingredients into it and watch it explode.’ And he laughed, more nervously than before, rubbing his forehead. He seemed tired all of a sudden.

‘Oh,’ laughed Tilda, evidently not noticing the slight change in his mood. ‘Maud?’

‘Hm?’ replied Maud giving up staring at her own fingers pressed against the warm tankard. Tilda was beating her eyelashes at her, ready to ask her a favour, her stance resembling that of a muggle soldier preparing for battle. ‘Can I braid your hair?’ She asked widening her eyes until she looked like a pleading doe more than anything else, at the same time leaning dangerously close to Maud.

‘Why?’ replied Maud, inching away one tiny molecule at a time.

‘Because I think it would suit you and I like braiding hair and and and no one ever lets meeeee! Come on come on come on. Pleeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaase!’ And just as she was about to climb on her chair and jump up and down on it to stress out the imperiousness of her desire, Charlie returned to the table, five Butterbeers hovering in front of him.

‘I told you already you can braid mine,’ cried Priscilla in exasperation from the other end of the table.

‘But it’s not enough! Your hair demands one style. Maud’s would bring out something else entirely from my vast knowledge of braids.’

‘Alright,’ laughed Maud. ‘You can braid my hair if that’s what you want.’ And to prove she was serious she pulled her chair next to the bouncing Tilda, who squeaked in excitement making all of them laugh. She climbed off her chair and jumped gleefully to where Maud was, positioning herself behind her.

‘Oh, you really are doing this,’ said Maud surprised, feeling the girl’s fingers brushing gently her hair and parting it into thick locks the colour of chestnuts.

‘Oh yes, yes I am.’ Maud could sense a mischievous smile growing on Tilda’s lips and it made her shudder. What had she gotten herself into?

‘Sis?’ intervened Liam into the conversation. ‘How on earth would Tilda braid your hair? You barely have any.’

Priscilla smacked the life out his brother, a smug look on her face. ‘It’s just shorter than Maud’s, that’s all. That does not mean, you obnoxious potato head, that I don’t have any hair!’ She touched proudly her short, wavy, golden locks that could barely reach her jaw line. It suited her and her athletic constitution, giving her a boyish allure, her interesting looks somewhat compensating for her rather dull personality—her passion for Quidditch being the only spark that animated her and also what set her apart from her brother. Priscilla had always been a mild disappointment to her family compared to her brother, who had been born three minutes later than she. She never cared much for social conduct, all she really ever wanted was to eat, sleep, and, essentially, exist on a broomstick. Her sole purpose on this world was to be the greatest Keeper the wizarding community would ever see. The truth was she had every chance of making it come true because she had the skills and determination. But Liam…oh, Liam! He was the family’s crown jewel. Always perfect—with the occasional slip-ups when he would demonstrate a bit too much enthusiasm for other people’s wands. He had the manners, the looks of his father, and his mother’s heart and personality. Liam was the capable wizard, the one that would make everyone proud one day. However, despite their differences, Liam and Priscilla cared for each other and understood themselves better than anyone else. Maud was jealous of them. They had it all— a loving, albeit somewhat strange, family, they had each other, they knew where they were heading and there was really not much going wrong in their lives. In fact, Maud was, in a certain degree, jealous of them all and sometimes, when she spent time with that group of charming people, she could sense treacherous tears gathering behind her eyes. Often she would ask herself if there was something wrong with her. She never dared attempt a reply.

‘There!’ beamed Tilda putting her hands on Maud’s soldiers, waking her up from her reverie. She looked up around the table and saw everyone staring at her quite surprised.

‘Why do you always keep your hair down if you look so cute with it this way?’ asked Priscilla admiring.

‘I…uhm…’  She raised her hands to feel the braid, her cheeks a violent red against her otherwise pale skin.

‘Come ooooooooon,’ squeaked Tilda grabbing her hand and pulling her off her chair. ‘You got to admire my masterpiece!’ And she dragged her through loud tables and disoriented customers, past the bar, down a narrow, darkly lit corridor, through a door, into the bathroom. She pushed Maud towards the mirror which had small spots of rust all across her surface. But it was enough for her to admire Tilda’s work. And it was something to admire indeed.

‘Wow…’she whispered for lack of a better word to describe her feeling. She had taken all the locks that usually framed her face and pulled them to the back of her head with the rest of her hair where she twisted them into an intricate pattern. Now, Maud’s face had only a few, barely perceptible strands of hair framing it, making her features stand out. She hadn’t considered herself pretty. She thought she was acceptable looking, not revolting, but not pretty as well. The way Tilda had arranged her hair enhanced her every feature. Her eyes seemed bigger and brighter, her skin glowed in spite of its sickly colour—or lack of it for that matter—and her hair looked darker against her deep green woolly.

‘Well? Do you like it?’ smiled Tilda from behind her.

‘Yes...,’croaked Maud, her heart pounding against her chest. ‘It’s amazing. How did you learn to do that?’

She could help but stare into the mirror. The braid made her look younger, more childish. And it made her so utterly miserable because she kept wondering if her mother ever braided her hair, or if she would like her like that. It was so beautiful and so painful at the same time. Where were her parents?

‘My grandma’ taught me. Before that, she taught my mother—she loved braids.’ And Tilda smiled, the fondness in her words radiating from her eyes and cheeks. She gave off love and enthusiasm and energy and it confused Maud so… How could she be so positive? So bright and forever beaming at people when her parents were dead? She still had her grandparents, a tiny voice would whisper from the darkest recesses of her mind. Nevertheless, it was impressing.

‘Thank you,’ said Maud turning around to give her a genuine smile.

‘No worries. I just love making them. Come on, let’s go back.’

She turned on her heels and glided towards the door. Maud had never noticed the girl could move so gracefully. _I should pay more attention to those around me_ , she thought to herself.

They were passing by the bar when Maud tripped over someone’s foot and found herself knocking into a tall figure.

‘Sorry,’ she said quickly, her cheeks reddening instantly. She felt two arms grab her, pushing her aside and she looked up to see Tom Riddle. He threw her a dark look before passing by, not uttering a word to her. Maud followed him with her eyes, confused and somewhat upset. He saw him sit at a corner table before Tilda came back for her, dragging her to the others.

‘Honestly, Maud, I’ve never seen someone move so slow in my life!’ The blonde laughed, obviously not bothered by Maud’s slowness.

‘Arthur!’ she yelled when they were only two feet away from the table. ‘Where are the others?’

‘Oh, they went ahead already,’ he replied drawing figures with his finger on the bottle of Butterbeer in front of him.

‘What?? Seriously?’ She picked up her dotted cap, coat and packages and ran out the Three Broomstick without a goodbye. Maud stared at the door in disbelief.

‘Where have they all gone?’ she asked sitting down next to Arthur.

‘Oh, you’ll see,’ he smiled. ‘Just finish your drink.’

Maud glanced over her shoulder—she could see Tom’s table from where they sat. He was talking to some Ravenclaws she recognized from Potions.

‘What are you looking at?’ Arthur was stretching his neck, trying to catch of glimpse of whatever it was Maud was looking at.

‘Nothing…’ She turned back to her tankard and downed the last of the Butterbeer. ‘So,’ she grinned, ‘where are we going?’

‘Onwards!’ laughed Arthur getting up.

Maud felt Tom’s gaze stabbing her in the back as she and Arthur left the Three Broomsticks together. Outside, the boy took her hand grinning mischievously and broke into a run towards the outskirts of the village, dragging a laughing Maud with him.

‘Where are we going?’ She yelled against the deafening wind.

‘You’ll see! Blimey, you have zero patience, haven’t you?’

They ran through the cold mist, fighting the icy air with laughter and white vapours coming from their mouths. They left behind the bustling village, getting farther and farther from the castle grounds with each stride they launched against the cold ground.  The mountains loomed large and imposing and stray trees were set against its magnificence, trembling cowardly with the weight of the wind.

Only when they had reached the top of the second hill did they stop to catch their breaths and admire the view. Behind them, Hogwarts had become a dark shadow amidst a sea of grey light. In front, ominous mountains stood tall, guarding the horizon and the skies. And the hills stretched in between, parting the two opposing giants, carrying lightning-stricken trunks of trees and naked bushes far away. However, Arthur turned to the right where the hill crumbled into rocks covered by moss and dirt seeping through. Some feet down, there was a valley across which a murmuring stream of water ran, losing itself into the Forbidden Forest.

‘Be careful,’ he advised Maud as he went down a steep path which led to the river.

They climbed down the side of the hill, dislodging small rocks from the mossy wall.

‘That will be one hell of a climb back up,’ contemplated Maud looking up from the valley. There were drops of sweat prickling down the side of her temple in spite of the cold winds heating her repeatedly.

‘Who said we’ll climb back up?’ laughed Charlie from behind her, two broomsticks in his hands.

‘We’re going to fly!’ cried Tilda jumping in excitement. They were all there.

‘Whaaat?!’ Maud was absolutely terrified. She had never used a broomstick before. ‘But...but… I don’t know how to…’

‘It’s easy, I’ll teach you,’ gleamed Arthur coming towards her holding his own broomstick—a Nimbus.

‘Here, come with me.’ He took her a few feet away, where there was a patch of green grass glowing against the muddy rocks. ‘I should’ve told you this before,’ whispered Arthur stopping in front of her, blocking the others from her view. ‘The truth is, I really wanted you to come and I feared that if you’d know beforehand you’d oppose the idea and desert.’

‘Why was it so important that I come?’ replied Maud, whispering as well. She was looking up at his conflicted face. He wasn’t as tall as Tom but it was still a difficult task to see his expression properly.

‘Today is…well it’s the anniversary of Amadeus and Sophia Stirling. Tilda’s parents. Every year we take her flying or do something fun and stupid to make her forget. That’s why everybody is so happy and enthusiastic. So she would not think about it. And she really likes you—we all like you, for some weird reason because you sometimes you seem to be afraid of human beings…’ he laughed, his eyes kind and warm. ‘We thought you should come as well…’

Maud widened her eyes, struggling to keep the sadness back, somewhere in the back of her mind. She hugged him tightly, a timid smile playing on her lips.

‘Thank you for inviting me,’ she said letting him go. He was surprised and his cheeks had turned a subtle shade of pink. ‘But I do hope you realize I’ve never mounted a broomstick. Ever. Times infinity.’ Maud looked at him in all seriousness, a child’s face laced with a subtle hint of terror. Arthur laughed heartily.

‘I think you’ll find that I’m the best teacher there is.’

‘I truly hope so.’

‘Put your broom on the ground and stand next to it. Good. Now extend your hand—this was basically our first flying lesson at Hogwarts—and say _up,_ loud and clear. Got it?’

‘Not much to get really… _Up!_ ’ The broom obeyed and propelled itself up for Maud to catch in mid-air.

‘Good. Now the tricky part. Mount it.’ Arthur smiled at her, his arms crossed, waiting patiently for Maud to scrape up enough courage to do it.

As she threw one leg over the broom, Charlie and Tilda ran towards them, eager to see Maud fly away.

 ‘You can do it!’ Tilda was jumping excitedly, clapping her hands encouragingly.

‘No big deal, scaredy-cat,’ added Charlie.

Maud pouted at them and angrily pushed herself off the ground, so as to prove she was not a scaredy-cat. And she wasn’t. Right up until the moment she realized she was no longer on the soft looking patch of green grass.

‘YOU DID IT! YOU DID IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT’ screamed Arthur from below, jumping and kicking the air triumphantly.

Maud however was too preoccupied with not falling off the broom and did not register their words. Nor did she see them mount their own broomsticks to follow her. She was rocketing towards the sky, ripping stray clouds apart and desperately trying to avoid the forest’s tall trees. Every muscle in her body was tensed, and her ears prickled with concentration. She had never been more terrified in her life—not that she could remember anyway.

‘You’re doing it,’ yelled an excited Arthur over the wind’s loud swishing.

‘Yeees,’ replied Maud half laughing, half crying. Her grip on the broom’s handle was as tight as possible.

‘Let’s race! Last to—’

But Maud did not get the rest of the sentence because the Priscilla and Liam, followed closely by Charlie and Tilda rocketed past her, dragging with them Arthur’s words and broom. She tried to speed up to catch up with them and failed miserably. She looked around her desperately. All she could see was grey mist and dark shadows where trees or hills were stretching.

‘Guys!’ she yelled.

‘Arthur! Where are you?’

Nothing. The wind wailed and screeched, cutting her skin, freezing vapours of water onto her coat. She tried to stay calm and steer her broom towards the ground but it was considerably harder than she had thought because the air was putting up a fight, not liking humans flying around in his domain.

‘Arthur!! Chaaaaarliee! Liam? Anyone? Guys, please!’

It was no good, but she tried anyway.

‘Tilda? Tildaaa!’

Again, nothing.

‘Arhg! I told you I can’t fly! Bloody hell, I’m not a bird!’ Tears in her eyes, she screamed in frustration and grabbed the broom’s handle, pulling towards her. It tumbled over and sent her spinning downwards at an alarming speed. She fought against the currents to pull at it once more and straighten it once more. The wind was rushing past her, laughing at her and she was turning around with no sense of direction. There was no more sky or ground, trees or hills—all she could make out at that dangerous speed was the sea of grey. That infuriating sea of grey! She couldn’t stand that fog and the lack of a horizon; it made her want to burn it, to see that entire atmosphere crumble beneath her. She was no bird, she strived not for the unobtainable clouds that guarded mountain tops and tiled castle turrets. In fact, there was nothing on that world she wanted—nothing really. There was no sense to her being anyway without memories. But she felt an overwhelming pain and all the anger inside her screamed for someone to blame. Who would leave her with no knowledge of who she is on the side of a road, to die in the cold, muddy pools of water that are born in the wake of a storm? Is there no worth to her? Was there no one to care for her? To fight for her?

She kicked and screamed in that infinite fall and clouds burned around her, carrying in gusts of smoke her hatred and her tears.

‘Do I not matter?’ she cried and the wind swallowed her words. Somewhere, trees shivered in anticipation and crows beckoned her.

‘I am not weak,’ she screamed at the world. ‘I will not flicker away like an unwanted candle left on the porch of some grand house.’ She put all her force into her limbs, and mounted mid-fall the broomstick, gritting her teeth in her effort to pull it upwards, against the morbid current that called her towards the hard, rocky ground.

The broom gave a screeching noise as Maud managed to steer it upwards just as it approached the ground. But she was too low and her speed too high and, unable to properly lift itself, the broom crashed, narrowly avoiding two lonely trees. Fortunately, it had slowed down enough for Maud to get away without any broken bones.

She scrambled into a sitting position, her heart hammering against her chest. Sighing with relief and still shaking, she checked herself for any visible injuries. She had been very lucky to not crash at full speed. She had no idea where she was, all she could see were the two trees she somehow managed to avoid while falling, but the mist covered everything else.

‘Truly a lovely day…’ she spat retrieving her wand from the pocket of her coat. At least that had not snapped. The same could not be said about the broom which was lying next to her, a pile of wood and golden strings oozing out magic. She stared at it, at her scratched hands and then at the wand.

‘I’m lost, aren’t I?’ she whispered to it wide eyed. Her legs ached. In fact, every bone in her body hurt. There might not be anything broken, but she was most certainly bruised all over.

She stared into the mist hopelessly, tears prickling her eyes.

And then the impossible happened. She heard heavy steps on the ground as a dark silhouette emerged from the fog, tall and menacing…but so familiar!

‘Tom!’ She jumped on her feet, ignoring every pang that screamed at her from underneath her bruised skin and ran towards him, limping slightly. And she threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly, her eyes tightly shut to keep the tears inside. A lost child clinging to a most beloved and familiar figure…

Tom was taken aback by her reaction. His hands were hovering awkwardly behind her small back, not knowing what to do. He had been cursing her inwardly the entire day, ever since she knocked into him at the Three Broomsticks where he was supposed to meet with some new followers before summoning the rest of them. Since she had behaved rudely towards him in the corridor, he had decided to ignore her completely. Regardless of her begging and moaning which he assumed she would do, once she would realize he had not a minute to spare on her. But earlier that day he had been taken by surprise when she literally ran into him. He had not expected to find her there, looking so innocent and childish, even cute. Above all, he had not been prepared to see her having fun with that obnoxious Gryffindor puppet. It had been a day of surprises—mostly unpleasant ones. He had wanted to skin her and that boy alive when they left holding hands; after all, she was his to play with.

And now, seeing her literally throw herself at him angered him all the more. His first instinct was to grab her by the neck and hex her until her screams would fill out the world and rip apart that wretched fog which prevented him from seeing her earlier, thus depriving him of the chance to walk past her and ignore her. And perhaps he would have acted upon that basic instinct, had she not hugged him so desperately, with her entire being and her warmth at his mercy. He almost asked her in his most acid tone where was her little Gryffindor now, but he stopped himself. The way she clung to him was disarming. It lifted away all the murderous thoughts and all the rage and left him confused. All he could do was stand there, taking in her warmth and affection. She made him feel as though her entire world spun around him. As though he was everything…

Slowly, hesitantly almost, he lowered his hands, resting them on her back.

‘What happened to your friends?’ He whispered, fighting off the urge to at least verbally maim her. ‘In fact, what the devil happened to you?’ He felt blood through a tear in her coat coming from one of her undiscovered wounds.

‘Uhm, nothing…’ she replied looking up, her eyes shiny with pain.

Tom raised his eyebrows disbelievingly.

‘You think I’m one of your thick friends?’ He turned her around to inspect her back.

‘Don’t insult them! You don’t even know them! Ouch!’ Tom had pressed one of her wounds causing her to jump in pain.

‘Now tell me what happened, or I’ll do that again,’ he whispered menacingly into her ear.

Maud turned around with tears in her eyes which she wiped with her sleeve before they could run down her face.

‘I got lost…and fell from the broom. Now can you tell me which way is the castle so I can get off your back.’ She looked angrily at him, crossing her arms to stop herself from shivering.

‘Fell from the broom?’ Tom elected to ignore her last sentence. ‘What on earth were you doing on a broomstick? Are you mad? You? Of all people? On a broom?’ He was angry.

‘Can you be more stupid than that?’ he added as he turned her around to check every tear in her coat and every muddied spot on her legs. When he finally stopped he pressed his hand against her face. She was burning up. ‘Are you really that stupid? And you have a fever, for Merlin’s sake. You imbecile of a child!’

‘Stop insulting me! You big, short-tempered bully!’ She cried, her eyes in tears.

He started pacing, his fists clenched.

‘I’m insulting you? I’m?? You’re insulting yourself, putting yourself in danger in the most stupid way possible!’ He yelled, his eyes pitch black and his voice cutting through her skin. He had lost control. He had surrendered to his emotions.

He turned back to her and grabbed her by the hand, holding her tightly, almost crushing her wrist. Maud gasped, fear swelling in her heart.

‘What gives you the right to throw yourself in harm’s way like that??’

‘What does it matter to you? It’s my life! Mine! Not yours! Let me go!’ And she struggled to get away from him but he was too strong. He used his other hand to take a hold of her face as well, forcing her to look him in the eye. There was pain and fear in her eyes, but Maud could see it in his eyes too. There was a tinge of fear behind Tom’s rage as realisation crept on him.

‘Tom, I’m already hurt, there is no need for you to harm me any more… Let me go!’

Tom’s fury died away slowly and he let her go, half expecting her to run away. But she didn’t. She was truly reckless.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered, giving him a sad smile. And that was the last drop. His reasoning caved in as he made the last step towards her, his body now inches away from hers. Maud looked up confused and somewhat scared as he extended his arms, embracing her with the air of a man who’s reached his limit. He sighed defeated, his chest shuddering against her small form. Tom was no longer crushing her, he was not holding her tightly as she had hugged him, he was merely sheltering her from the cold, his body covering hers entirely. Yet Maud could feel the genuine concern behind that simple act and even behind his previous outburst.

‘Thank you for finding me…’ whispered Maud tiptoeing to his level and kissing him on the cheek. Tom blinked in surprise before giving her a smug smile.

‘You’d be forever lost without me,’ and he buried his face in her hair, closing his eyes to let his pulse cool down. But there was no going back to its previous glacial state. Not now. Not ever.

‘Come, before you bleed out on my clothes.’

She took his hand for support, her feet hurting more by the minute and he squeezed it, his eyes twinkling as he guided her through the mist and the grey.

 


	12. Brave Heart, Snake Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is there a point in asking for your opinions? Well, I don't know but I still hope that one day you will all share your thoughts with me. Nevertheless, thank you for reading. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter.

‘What’s the matter now?’ asked an exasperated Tom, whose sleeve was being aggressively pulled by Maud. They were on the final flight of stairs which led to the Hospital Wing.

‘Stop whimpering like a wounded dog and answer me,’ he snapped.

Maud looked up wide-eyed at Tom, ignoring his angry retort, her face pale white. She was so, so very cold…

‘I don’t want to go to the Hospital Wing,’ the words shivered off her trembling lips. ‘Please, don’t take me there.’

She clung to him, her eyes desperate and teary, pain searing through every tear in her skin. With every minute they wasted arguing on the stairs, her condition worsened and every ounce left of her energy was draining rapidly from her body.

‘Maud, you’re in no state to dodge Madam Creavey this time. Stupid recklessness does not become you.’ And he took one step, dragging her along, but she put up a surprisingly good fight and he had to stop once more.

‘Please! I don’t care what you do, just don’t take me there! If she sees me like this, I’ll get them all into trouble—and before you say you don’t care about them, I will get into trouble as well. And I don’t…I don’t like the hospital wing. It makes me feel sick…and lost and doomed.’ Her words rang with pain and fear, but her fingers gripped Tom’s arm with an uncommon determination. He sighed impatiently and turned on the steps, his jaw clenched.

‘You do realize you are already in a disastrous state…Oh, never you mind, annoying child. Killing you would be kinder on the world,’ he whispered through gritted teeth, loud enough for her to produce the shadow of a laugh.

‘Who would annoy you then?’ replied Maud, relaxing the instant she saw Tom change direction. ‘Where are we going now?’

They were climbing up and down flights of stairs, turning on narrow corridors and passing through concealed doors, leaving behind the brightly lit hallways and busy passageways.

‘To the best healer there is,’ replied Tom dryly.

‘Oh. Who’s that?’

‘I,’ and he said it with such ease and simplicity that any pompousness or self-sufficiency disappeared behind a curtain of certainty, making Maud raise her eyebrows in surprise, but believe in the truth of his words completely nonetheless, and without a shadow of a doubt.

‘Still, where are we going?’ She asked as they passed empty paintings and abandoned classrooms.  The pain in her back was slowly rising and breathing was becoming increasingly harder.

‘To my room.’

Maud gaped at him.

‘What? Why? Can’t you just heal me here? I—…’ she stopped, her words drowned by her coughing as she pressed herself against the cold wall. She could feel herself getting worse. Her skin burned but her insides screamed in agony as though every organ had frozen, causing her limbs to tremble almost uncontrollably. The hallway itself seemed to play tricks on her mind as the few candles that lit it were bursting, caught in a moment of visually hurtful explosion, expanding through the air, attacking her eyes. Maud let herself glide against the wall, curling in a ball, summoning all the strength she could muster to chase away that nightmare. And just as the world seemed to crumble beneath her, giving up on the laws that had gone into devising it, two cold hands pressed themselves against Maud’s face, cooling her skin down. She was picked up and carried down the hallway, not a word exchanged, just an imperceptible heartbeat, humming distantly under her left ear. She took deep breaths and she clung to that frail sound that almost did not exist.

Tom had a million cruel remarks dancing in his head, all dying to launch themselves at Maud and take a greedy bite. However, as he let her down on his bed, her eyes tightly shut and her body vibrating with pain, he did not allow his lips to part with those trademark retorts. There was something so beautiful and so haunting about her lying on his bed, hurt—a broken toy. She was all his—to repair or to damage beyond any hope, the choice was his.

He stood there, next to the bed, looking down at Maud’s trembling form. There were locks of deep brown covering her pale face, and one hand was entangled in his dark green sheets. The other one had risen up to find his and capture it. Tom hesitated. He could keep by the edge of the bed and watch her struggle in the ever-growing pain, caught up in a moment of never-ending falling, always hitting the ground—her skin, her magic, tearing up at the impact every two seconds. Or he could reach out only a bit and catch her frail hand. Blood boiled in his veins, his skin prickled and his heart was almost unmoving in the anticipation, but in the end he sat down next to her and caught her hand just as it was dropping in semi-conscious disappointment.

‘Tom…’ she whispered as she opened her eyes to a concert of lights.

Although his heart gave a familiar twitch at the sound of his own name whispered off her lips, Tom refused to reply. He refused to let himself be sucked into her world of unknown. Instead, he took out his beloved wand and let go of her hand.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Maud panic in her eyes as he took off her dirty coat.

‘I can’t heal you, unless I see the wounds properly,’ he replied coldly.

Maud, however, was less composed, and she gathered herself with what was left of her determination and she edged away from him until she hit the wall against which the bed was positioned.

‘Playing games, are we?’ And now he was smiling smugly, part of him enjoying that new-found side of her. ‘There’s no need to be shy, little Maud. I won’t eat you…’ He advanced on her in the same manner a predator stalks its prey—slowly, paralyzing her with his stare, deadly.

‘…now. Take off your jumper. Or would you prefer I ripped it off your back?’ He smiled again, this time feigning innocence, but Maud pressed herself harder against the wall, wanting to get through it as she clung to her jumper—her last anchor in that shivering world of lights and colours, sounds and madmen.

‘But…but…I’ll be cold!’ Her eyes were ever so wider as Tom ignored her shaky protest and took off her jumper too. She crossed her arms on her chest, trying to keep herself warm as she was now covered by only a thin layer of white material stained by blood, which was her undershirt.

Tom’s hands remained on her shoulders, almost as if he had forgotten them there, engrossed in observing her. She was delightfully frightened and the most amusing part to him was that there was no need for it. Maud knew he was only going to heal here, so why was she acting as though she feared he had something else in mind? Why indeed… He leaned closer, taking in the faint smell of lemon and cinnamon, inviting him in. One inch closer and he could bury his face in her soft hair. The longer he remained there, almost squeezing her against the wall, the harder it became to stop himself and that consuming urge to devour her entire being. And the longer they stayed that way, the more frightened became Maud, her magic, shivering feebly in between them. And Tom could feel she was too weak to put up a fight.

‘Lie down so I can look at your wounds,’ sighed Tom, letting her go reluctantly.

‘Will it hurt?’ Asked Maud obeying, her teeth chattering.

‘Perhaps, if you don’t behave…’

If Maud had turned around that moment, she would have seen Tom’s eyes twinkling and she would have thought he was enjoying every bit of it. And it would not have been wrong. However, one methodically ignored part of him was fighting off the urge to punish her so called friends, who had allowed her to get on a broomstick and endangered her. And that part of him chanted in the back of his mind that she was his to torment and save, and nobody else’s. It was somewhere near that thought, that he cringed at the same time with her when a wound was tampered with, somewhere deeper, where he hated her pained expressions.

As he contemplated the many layers of his reactions and thoughts, his fingers touched the cuts on her back, making Maud whimper and wriggle miserably. The back of her undershirt was a dark red and there were spots through which Tom could see her bruised skin, where the material had been ripped apart by the force of the fall.

‘At least be quick about it!’ Cried Maud, wanting to sound menacing and failing at the last word.

She was digging her nails into the green sheets, her eyes wandering nervously around the room, inspecting every inch of it to distract her mind from the pain. His room was quite large considering he was the only one sleeping in there. There was a bookcase and an armchair in front of it, near the wall opposite to the bed, and next to them lay a small table on which scrolls and parchments were scattered. There was only one large window, but the curtains were drawn and piles of book stopped any draft from blowing them apart. Most of the light was coming from floating candles and the stern fire that cackled next to the alcove which led to the door. Maud decided she liked that room because it reminded her of Dumbledore’s study. There were piles of books everywhere—not just on shelves, but on the floor as well—and there were all sorts of curious objects from which magic poured into the room, shrouding it in the mysterious taste of power.

‘Ouch!’ cried Maud. She had felt the heavy jolt of pain travelling through her spine as Tom extracted a long, dirty splinter from her back. He took out three more simultaneously and Maud jerked her head upwards, her fingers digging themselves into his bed. The pain was escalating quickly as he kept on removing foreign objects—splinters, small stones lodged onto her back—from her now freshly bleeding wounds. Maud’s nerves were screaming and her muscles trembled as the throes of collapsing were reawakened once more in her body and mind.

‘Stop! Tom, stop!’ she screamed and tried to escape the torture, crawling as fast as she could towards the edge of the bed. But his hands were quicker and he pressed her back on the bed, his knees holding her legs in a tight grip.

‘Stop moving or I’ll damage your back,’ he threatened as he used his left hand to steady her back, pressing her hard against the sheets to stop her from writhing in pain.

‘But it hurts!’ she choked, tears running down her cheeks as one splinter got stuck behind another one and Tom summoned it once more. But they were too frail and on their way out they got shattered, tens of small pieces piercing though her skin at the same time.

‘One more… just one more,’ tried Tom to reassure her, only there was too little emotion in his voice to convince her. He lifted his wand towards the ceiling in one swift movement and another sliver flew out of her back, carrying with it a few drops of blood.

‘There… they’re all out.’

He let her go and went to his trunk from which he retrieved a small jar containing a pale green ointment.

‘This will close your wounds,’ he explained to Maud who was frowning at the jar, fear and pain gleaming in her eyes.

‘And then I’ll be alright?’ she asked hesitantly.

‘You’ll still have a fever, but at least you won’t have an infected back aching every breathing second.’ He climbed back onto the bed, his face emotionless and pale.

‘I’m afraid I’ll have to rip your shirt too.’ But he wasn’t sorry, not at all. If anything, he was eager to hear her protests once more. That was the sound of a healthy Maud.

‘No point in yelling, kicking and screaming, is there?’ Maud was tired and had given up. Her back still ached and so was her head.

‘None whatsoever.’ Tom was disappointed. There was no fun in playing with a deer who had already surrendered to the wolf. However, he could still feel her fear trembling underneath her skin as she gathered the sheets around her so only her back would be exposed.

He ripped her undershirt apart watching for her reaction. She had closed her eyes tightly and was biting her trembling lip, crushing her hands against the sides of her ribcage. He took his time, cherishing every ounce of fear and pain on her face, every shade of red that coloured her cheeks as he put on a coat of ointment, covering every blood-stained inch of her back. Her back was so small and her skin seemed so thin. He could see the veins traveling across her muscles, pulsing against the scapulae.

‘Are you done yet?’ asked Maud desperate, fighting the urge to jump off the bed and hide underneath it.

‘No,’ he replied, his cold fingers travelling down her spine. Tom’s lips curled upwards as he saw her skin tense and shiver.

‘I think you are.’ She used the sheets to cover herself up almost entirely and she curled up in a ball, staring crossly at Tom from above her green shield.

‘What?’ laughed Tom, enjoying every bit of that angry stare.

‘You’re having fun aren’t you?’

‘Oh, and here I was thinking you might want a warm shirt to cover yourself properly. Oh well, if you don’t mind wrapping yourself with sheets.’ And he got up as smugly as possible and stored his jar of ointment back in his trunk.

But one look at her face silenced him entirely when he returned to the side of the bed. She was too hurt for him to play with her feelings this time. As he stood there, seeing the raw emotion emanating from her every pore, he could no longer act as his usual, smug, yet charming, self. It seemed wrong when faced with such a creature. Yes, she vexed him. Yes, he sometimes wanted to watch the life bleed slowly out of her. But as always with her, he still had one part of him that wanted to keep her hidden, for his eyes only. Although he took pleasure sometimes in seeing her lost in his power, he also hated seeing her vulnerable. She was not like that. Even then, when she seemed too tired and scared and hurt, there was still the determination and pride of a lion. A small one, albeit, but a lion nonetheless. For the first time, toying and manipulating someone else failed to bring him the desired satisfaction.

He went to the alcove Maud had failed to observe before, where a dark wardrobe was concealed, and took out a white shirt and a black, thick jumper—both too large for her but clean and comfortable. He threw them on the bed and left the room, leaving her alone to change.

Maud blinked in confusion but did not waste any more time. She changed quickly and stood up, a bit too fast which made her wobble dangerously on her feet. There was still a dull ache in her back, and the fever had not disappeared either, clouding her process of thought. The clothes were at least two sizes too large, and she felt as though she was swimming in Tom’s scent. She looked at her feet and frowned. He had taken off her boots without her noticing and now she was bare footed on the coldest stone she thought could exist. She dashed to his wardrobe and, after a few minutes’ search, fished out a pair of woollen socks. That was better.

The door was two steps away when she stopped, her hand in mid-air. For a split second she felt unsafe. For just a fragment of moment, going out that door and into the same room as Tom Riddle did not seem a good idea. In fact, in that fraction of a second, her entire world shook as realization dawned on her that there was no real reason for her to trust him so. From the very beginning, she had simply let herself in his hands and that was very stupid, her conscious told her. Why? Or better still, how come some stranger felt so familiar to her? What could possibly be in Tom Riddle to awaken such feeling of safety in Maud?

But the doubt died out as quickly as it had arisen, bringing in its place all he had done for her, more or less willingly. So she opened the door and climbed down the stairs, into the Head Common Room—a spacious, well lit, warm and welcoming room, with armchairs, sofas, and one large fireplace—where Tom Riddle was waiting for her. He was sitting on a sofa, apparently lost in thought. There was a small table in front of him, bathing in the dancing light of the fireplace. On it Maud noticed a trey with tea and toast, butter and marmalade which looked quite delicious and spread its divine scent across the entire room.

‘Are you alright?’ she asked Tom, her hand touching gently his shoulder. He looked up, his eyes vaguely conveying the surprise in him. For a second, he seemed lost. He stared at her transfixed, the black of his eyes calling her, drawing her out from her fear. Maud’s heart shivered as for a brief moment he made her believe she was the only one in the world.

The air seemed heavier and the light more feeble than before, a flicker struggling in that dark sea to survive. Tom stood up, his eyes boring into hers, and he took one step towards her, painfully slow as if his insides were torn apart. They both ached to say so many things, ask questions, yell insults or share a crumble of hope, but the silence stretched itself around them, covering everything in its wake. It was a soundless storm, of hearts and minds. It was Tom Riddle’s conflicted soul poured into space.

Maud’s breath clung to her lips, the atmosphere around her was charged to a tipping point, crushing down her ribcage, pressing down any pulmonary expansion. Tom was inches away from her, so close she could hear blood running through his veins; she could feel his muscles tensing. And he was so tall. Maud’s eyes barely reached his jaw line. She felt so little against him. He could crush her in an instant and not break a sweat. But that was not what made him so frightening in her eyes; it was knowing he chose not to use that power which sent shivers down her spine. She wasn’t vulnerable and neither was he. Yet Maud had already admitted to herself that she had no control over her own self, whereas Tom seemed the man who, if he’d put his mind to it, could control the moon.

Not standing the stillness anymore, Maud did the only thing she deemed natural in that instance—she leaped. She raised her hand and touched his face, making him twitch, almost as though he had never been touched before. His skin was smooth and less cold than his hands. He was really there. That was not one of her dreams waiting for the right moment to turn sour and bloom into a monstrous nightmare. No. That was real. That was him, in front of her. Why did he matter so much to her? Why was her heart aching and her skin prickling?

When she touched his face, Tom’s entire body tensed up, every cell in him burning. He had not expected her to move, let alone close the distance between them with that simple, innocent gesture. He did not like it; it made him unsure of what to do. He had to be in control, no matter how pleasant her touch was, or how new that sensation was to him. No one had ever touched him that way, gently, fearlessly and…kindly. He took her hand, not roughly as he had previously done, but carefully, so as not to break her fragile skin, and he held it in his, keeping it away from his face. Maud was searching his expression in confusion. She thought she had upset him, but that was not it.

Tom was conflicted. He wanted to lean forward and inhale that intoxicating sent of cinnamon and lemon. He wanted to devour her. But his snake heart advised him against it. It would compromise him, wouldn’t it? He would step over that imaginary line between manipulating and caring, the snake would hiss. At the same time, however, a snake takes what he wants, what pleases him, he manipulates and schemes, but in the end, it does all that so it can feast upon whatever it might choose. And he was famished!

‘Tom…?’ Maud was searching his expression, not wanting to have upset him.

He grinned at the sound of his name uttered by such shy lips that seemed to beg for him. He pressed his cheek against hers, his mouth to her ear.

‘Yes, little lion?’ He whispered tantalizingly, brushing his lips down the side of her cheek, along her jawline, smiling greedily as he felt her small hand cling to his shirt, trembling ever so slightly.

And then he pulled back, leaving Maud standing there, confused and hurt. But she pushed her feelings behind everything else, behind the strain in her body and the aches that still travelled through her limbs.

‘You should eat,’ he said simply, walking towards the window.

Maud remained there, upset on herself more than on anyone else. She had thought he wanted to kiss her, the way she’s seen boys often do on hallways and underneath lonely trees. And now she felt stupid and naïve, with her skin burning unbearably hot. She pressed her surprisingly cold hands against her cheeks, desperate to escape that retched state.

‘I’m not hungry,’ she whispered after a while, curling up on the sofa. Tom turned around from the window, behind which a dilated sun was bleeding into the ground, large clouds trying unsuccessfully to cover it up. He sat down next to her, calm and composed, almost bored even.

‘You should at least drink some tea,’ he said emotionless, but did not wait for her response and poured her a cup.

Maud took it, not looking at him, her eyes fixed on the steam curling up, spreading around her hands. She stared at the hot liquid for some time, with eyes drowned in sadness. She was disappointed for some reason that Tom had pulled back. It made her feel so stupid it pained her almost as much as her back did an hour ago.

‘You have to drink it,’ she heard Tom’s voice slithering into her ears, making her hands tighten their grip on the cup.

‘Oh, silly me. I thought it’s meant to be stared at.’

But her bitterness did not seem to reach Tom’s nerves as he made no gesture to indicate a reaction. He just sat there, unmoving, unfeeling—a staggering contrast to the way he had acted not ten minutes earlier. Suddenly, there was a chilliness to the room Maud did not like at all. So she drank her cup of tea, not really tasting it, and then another one, hoping something would change in Tom’s behaviour. She peaked at him from behind her cup from now and then, but every time he just stared into the fire, patiently waiting for something himself.

After her second cup, Maud turned her back to Tom, hugged her knees to her chest and resigned herself to that annoying silence, determined not to speak to him a word. She was in no disposition to entertain his mood swings. She closed her eyes and waited. Waited for Tom to say something, do anything, just move and prove to her that the last couple of hours had not been a feverish dream. Seconds slipped into minutes, minutes passed into fragments of hours and then into interminable moments of breaths that become slower with each heartbeat, until her eyelids lost their will to open again. And she dreamed.

She dreamed two strong arms picking her up and carrying her to another room, darker, heavier, onto a soft bed. She dreamed a voice whispering a strange spell and she felt her skin lighter, as though every speck of dirt had been rinsed off of her and her hair was once more silky and clean. Or so she dreamed it was. But after that, the dark curtain slipped over her consciousness and the only feeling she had left to experience was the loneliness of fear and the sensation of being lost in a familiar, nightmarish place. Voices approached from the distance with the rhythm of someone’s calculated footsteps, whose precision tortured her ears. It was the steady ringing of a bad inevitability. It banged closer and closer, louder and louder, tearing apart the unknown, howling and hissing at her, demanding it be felt through every pore and every cell in her trembling body. If curses could assume a physical body, at least in dreams, that would be what they felt like. She froze in anticipation, but that did not please that giant of rigorously paced sounds, because a monster demands more than just a sliver of fear inside the heart. No. A monster wants to chase, it wants to make your heart give out with the effort. It wants your heart to ooze out terror. Especially when that monster knows every inch of every thing that ever made the blood freeze. It had come to her before. And just like before, it knew exactly what her fears would feast on…

Maud screamed and kicked, trying desperately to fight off, or at least to cover up the voices—the ever present voices that tortured her every night, in her subconscious, peeling layer after layer off her defences. There was a part in her mind, where not even nightmares could get in, where nothing was supposed to exist. It was the deepest, darkest part of her, hiding something so terrible, so traumatizing that it could feed the blackest of nightmares in the world, for the rest of the eternity. But somehow, the giant of noise that came with such calculated footsteps every night, to knock on that forbidden door, belonged there. And it wanted to return there, it demanded it with such a forceful conviction, that it ripped everything apart in its way. Yet it was not up to the door or the monster to fulfil such a destructive desire. She held the key to the door. However, no matter how much she would be tortured, she simply could not get it open—not even if she wanted to. There was knowledge there, secrets and memories she did not want to access. Either way, no matter on which side of the door she found herself every night, it still hurt.

Regardless, they still fought. And she had always lost, yet the monster had still not won. That night, its cruelty and viciousness reached beyond the constraints of her mind, it crept out to regions it had never touched, killing her dream self in every way possible. Maud screamed louder and louder until the sound escaped, tearing apart the silence that surrounded reality.

‘No! Please, no! I don’t…I don’t want to!!’ she cried fighting against an imaginary being.

‘Maud! Maud! Calm down! It’s just a nightmare, for Merlin’s sake!’ Tom was atop of her, trying to wake her—she was burning up. She did not hear him. In her mind, she was still dreaming and there was no one else besides her but the monster, the nightmare. Her hands were clawing at Tom, trying to do as much damage as possible before he caught them. His arms had bloody red lines, going from elbow to wrist. He swore out loud, his temper edging out as Maud unconsciously sent a shock of strong magic through his body, making him grit his teeth in pain.

‘Wake up!’ he yelled at her, but that approach seemed to worsen the situation. Tears were coming down her cheeks and she kept screaming and trying to fight him off, her eyes closed and still believing he was the nightmare.

Tom could feel the fear bubbling inside her. He could feel her pain and desperation so vividly, as though he was inside her mind. Confusion and anger were building up inside him. What was wrong? What was he supposed to do?

‘Just what do you want me to do?’ he yelled at her, his eyes mad in frustration, searching her reaction for a response. And then, as she sank deeper into her dark pit of terror, it dawned on him. He leaned down, toward the trembling lost child that was trying desperately to free herself from his grip, until he was not an inch away from her face.

‘Maud, shhh,’ he whispered to her, his lips pressed against the side of her temple. ‘Wake up, little lion, wake up. It’s just a nightmare.’

And although his voice was the same menacing whisper death has when it lures in a victim, the warm silkiness and the familiar ring washed over Maud, cooling her down. Tom smiled triumphantly and let her go. Her breathing slowed down and her limbs relaxed. She looked as if she had just fallen into a peaceful sleep.

Tom got off her, but just as he was turning slowly towards the edge of the bed an alarmingly warm hand grabbed his, stopping him.

‘Don’t,’ she whispered sleepily, her eyes still closed, her lips slightly parted as though she was talking in a dream.

He looked at her surprised and tried to get off the bed nonetheless, but her fragile hand still clung to his.

‘…please...don’t leave me alone…’ There were still tears on her cheeks. Tom stood there, staring at her fascinated for a few minutes. He had never seen her like that. She had never looked so close to him, yet still be so far away, not even present, caught up in a world of dreams. She was genuinely afraid of whatever place she was roaming, so much that she forgot her pride and admitted to her own vulnerability. And there was something else on that child-like face, something which surprised him in a way he could not even describe to himself. She needed him to stay with her. But more than that, she wanted it—not just because she was scared and lonely, but because, for some unfathomable reason, she cared for him. He was important to her, there was no denying.

Confused, fascinated, proud and also feeling protective, he pried her hand off his and pulled the blanket over her, covering her small frame. Then he lay down next to her, watching her turn toward him and bury her head in his chest, her hand clinging to his shirt as though he was an anchor.

Relishing in the feeling of having her cling to him, he put his hand hesitantly over her waist, almost as if to test the sensation. It felt odd, as though he was the most powerful being in the world, but at the same time, the most vulnerable. He could feel her heart beat frenetically against her ribcage, so close…

‘Tom…’ she whispered, dreaming. She tightened her grip on his shirt so as to make sure he would not disappear.

Tom froze. Having her snuggle against him seemed so unreal. His own heart was pounding louder than ever before, a sound he had thought could not exist—not even in his rage. And in that moment of impossible clarity, Tom knew. He knew she was precious to him, unique. And he would protect her until the world would end and life would be shattered irrevocably, because she was his. Only his.

He hugged her tightly, crushing her against him, determined to never let her go. It was perhaps Tom’s greatest—and possibly his only—moment of weakness, when there was no cunning plan, or lucid thinking. It was, according to his own logic, a moment of madness which makes and breaks gods. And no matter how hard he would try, he could not find the reasoning behind it—just that he wanted her there, in his arms, always. He wanted her to look at him adoringly and lovingly until time itself would run out and everything would stay still. He felt all those things, with the thirst of a dying man, the passion of a madman, intoxicating his blood, making him desperately hold on to her—his one breath of air.

‘My little lion…’ he whispered above her head, the desire in his voice penetrating the air, ringing with the purest of cravings, the deepest, and the maddest. The most unquenchable thirsts of them all…  


	13. Statues

**13**

**Statues**

There are moments in time when a soul senses that ever-lasting storm which rumbles behind the fabric of the universe. A moment when they can feel the end, no matter how far or close it might be, and they can taste their own destiny, if one is willing to believe such a thing exists. These are mere seconds, doomed to be forgotten or ignored as soon as they have passed, but which leave their marking on said soul, burdening it with the knowledge of their own mortality.

Perhaps she experienced it in her sleep, perhaps it dawned on her the instant she opened her eyes— there was no pinpointing it. But as soon as Maud’s eyes had opened, a few heartbeats later, the feeling vanished, leaving her with a nagging sensation in the pits of her mind that somewhere, a clock was ominously ticking for everyone.

She looked around disoriented, at first not understanding where she was. After blinking a few times, however, she remembered, and as reality washed over her, Maud’s face reddened. She was clutching Tom’s shirt and he in turn was holding her in a tight grip, as if to prevent her from escaping. Somehow, she had partially knocked over the blanket, and her feet were now entangled with his. She was so close to him it took a considerable effort to pull back her head from his chest, enough to assess the situation. How could two people sleep when they were practically glued to one another? Maud could feel her face burning and had there been any way for her to do so without waking Tom up, she would have climbed off the bed. However, deep down she was enjoying that—feeling protected, safe. And Tom seemed so relaxed, his heart beating peacefully to her own. But his hands were so cold, even his feet. He had covered her with the blanket and now his skin was icy, making her feel guilty. That was so uncharacteristic it made her frown in suspicion, waiting for his other, more cruel, part to wake up and tease her until she would want to throw things at him. Yet he remained asleep, his entire body at ease, his face brighter than ever, almost innocent—deceivingly so. It made her so sad. She rarely—in fact, she had never seen him like that, which is why she let go of his shirt and hugged him, as best as she could from her position. And she stayed that way, waiting for him to open his eyes while listening to his mesmerizing heartbeat.

‘I like you, Tom Riddle,’ she whispered, barely hearing her own voice over the sound of their hearts beating together.

Tom’s lips curled upwards in a satisfied smile and he moved even closer to her—if that was possible— wanting to surround himself with her scent, craving for her touch and feeling it somewhere deep within him. But all too soon, Maud pulled back, as gently as she could, a cat evading the traps of a snake. Tom wanted to hold her tightly, keep her there, next to him, but he stopped himself and kept his eyes closed, his body unmoving. She jumped off the bed and went around it, to his side, pulling the blanket over him. Tom was conflicted between fighting off a smile and fighting off the urge to yell at her for treating him like a child. He did neither, although his insides were yelling and laughing at the same time.

‘And where do you think you’re going?’ he asked her getting out of bed himself as she was about to wrap her hand around the doorknob.

Maud yelped in surprise, her heart nearly bursting out of her chest.

‘Merlin, Tom! You scared the living daylights out of me!’ she replied turning around, her face pale white. ‘I was going to the bathroom, but now that you’re awake I think I’ll head to my room.’

She looked healthier than yesterday, even happier, noticed Tom pleased.

‘I take it you prefer me sleeping?’ he smirked walking towards her, his bare feet barely making a sound on the cold stone. He looked imposing and playful, a predator inviting his prey to play a game of who bites first.

Maud laughed.

‘Perhaps. But I’m also hungry and I want to shower. Oh, and thank you for the cleaning spell.’

‘You can eat here. And as you already pointed out, the cleaning spell took care of your other problem.’ He stopped a step away from her, his eyes gleaming at her.

Was he asking her to stay? Feeling curious and eager to see his reaction this time, Maud closed the distance between them, surprising Tom, and touched his cheek, just like the other day.

‘I’d love to eat here, but isn’t there a Head Girl behind those doors? What if she sees me?’ Tom twitched slightly at her touch, as he had done the other day, after a few seconds, however, he leaned almost imperceptibly against her hand, relishing in the feeling. He put his own hand over hers, covering it entirely. He was still cold.

‘What if she sees you?’ he asked, daring her to answer. The air was vibrating once more, charged with their unspoken thoughts.

‘And there’s also Arthur, Tilda, Charlie and the others who are probably worried.’ Maud had replied with her characteristic innocence, but the answer had Tom’s anger boiling underneath the surface of his skin. He would think of something for that annoying brat to punish him for the other day’s stunt.

He closed his eyes to calm himself down before answering her and take her hand from his face, as gently as he could given the situation.

‘So?’

‘Tom, they’re my friends, I can’t just disappear…’ but Maud sensed the change in his mood and even though she did not feel like going to the Gryffindor Tower to answer questions and spin lies, she felt it was the right thing to do. She placed her other hand on his cheek and smiled at him.

‘I’ll see you at breakfast, ok? That is…if you want to.’ She watched him carefully, afraid he would switch back to his normal self and simply turn around and ignore her. But he merely sighed, annoyed and somewhat impatient.

‘Even if I didn’t want to, I doubt there’s a way of avoiding you,’ the normal Tom replied, giving her a weak smile, almost forced.

Maud laughed and hugged him tightly, stealing away all the annoyance from his body, leaving him confused and empty as she grabbed her dirty coat and boots and vanished behind the door.

And then he remained there, glued to the cold stone— the conflicted statue of Hogwarts Castle. He stared at the space where she had been, his eyes raging across the air particles, searching, scraping the invisible for an answer to all the feelings he was suddenly experiencing. His heart was pounding against his chest, screaming at the boiling blood that somehow failed to warm up his body. What was happening? What was he thinking? Was he thinking? The howl that burst from his lips vibrated in the room as his punch met with the wall, making it shudder with magic and rage and confusion. Now his hand hurt. Trembling, he stepped backwards, every inch of the room shivering in anticipation. Tom wanted to run out of there, chase Maud down the corridor and take her apart, molecule by molecule, until nothing would remain in her wake, until her very presence would stop the absurd pounding of his heart. He felt weak.

‘What is happening to me?’ he whispered through greeted teeth as he gripped the side of a nearby armchair, his breathing heavy with everything. But there was no way he would stay there, moaning and throwing fits of…whatever it was he was feeling. Clenching his fists, Tom picked himself up and looked around for his wand.

Grinning in the most blood-thirsty manner possible, he pressed the tip of the wand to his left forearm. And while shocks of magic pinched every vein that travelled through that particular area of his skin, all around the castle students bearing different colours clutched their arm in pain as the red spots of partially forgotten burn marks re-ignited themselves, summoning them all to their Lord.

And as gasps of pain crawled on bustling corridors everywhere around him, the Dark Lord closed his eyes, relishing in that tiny gesture of complete and mad power.

He was not a statue. And Maud would soon find it all out…

**.**

 

‘I’m sorry,’ Arthur’s look was that of desperate regret. He had caught up with her as she climbed down from her room, nice and clean in her own clothes once more.

‘It’s not your fault that I’m a complete mess on a broom,’ smiled Maud, determined to put it all behind her. She wanted nothing more than to forget that embarrassing night. No. She was lying to herself. What she wanted more than that was to make Tom forget it. Because she had been weak, frightened and at his mercy and now, looking back at last night’s events, there was no nook in that entire castle to hide her from the embarrassment.

‘Still, I should’ve known better. I was… actually, we were all mad with worry when we lost sight of you. We thought the worst…oh, Merlin…’ He was ruffling his already messy hair, clearly still pretty shaken with guilt.

‘Honestly, Arthur… It’s alright—’

‘No, it’s not…just…look—would you at least stop and listen to me?!’ He grabbed her by the elbow as she was about to pass through the passage that led out of the Gryffindor common room.

‘I’m trying to apologize for being stupid and you aren’t even paying attention!’

Maud widened her eyes at him. He was truly feeling guilty, so much that it was eating him up from the inside. The green in his eyes stared painfully at her.

‘What happened to you? I looked for you all day, but you were nowhere to be found… I had almost gone to Professor Dumbledore…’

Maud backed away as a group of annoyed Gryffindors reprimanded them for blocking the passageway. Suddenly, her feet seemed the most intriguing thing in the whole universe.

‘Uhm…Well, I got lost…had to land and find my way back on foot. It was quite fun actually,’ she finally looked back up to him, the biggest, most fake care-free smile plastered on her face.

Arthur frowned at her, a brief moment of horror flashing in his eyes as various scenarios passed his mind. But then, seeing her trying to pass it all off as a joke made him throw his hands in exasperation.

‘At least you’re back in one piece…I think.’ And then he laughed his boyish, perfect Gryffindor smile, not really caring about the people passing between them, mumbling through gritted teeth how they were the thickest Gryffindors to cross the Fat Lady’s threshold.

‘Oh, come here you—’ Arthur hugged Maud with one hand and guided her out of the common room. ‘Let’s go get you some food.’

‘Oh…planning on getting me lost between plates now?’

‘No, no, no…as I recall, you’ve already done that on your first night here. Or were you just exploring the hidden underneath of Hogwarts’ masterpiece tables?’

Maud laughed. Finally, she was getting the hang of life. You were not supposed to purposefully swim through human interactions, the secret was to dive in with your eyes closed and your toes crossed in hope that everything will turn out just fine, knowing that it almost never does.

‘Seriously though,’ continued Arthur, ‘how do you always manage to get lost?’

‘It’s just a secret of mine…’ she answered jumping two steps at a time.

‘Oh, really? Care to share?’

But Maud did not answer. They had reached the Great Hall and it was already packed with students chatting and eating as loudly as it was humanly possible.

‘Maud?’

‘Hm…?’

‘What are you looking for? Have you forgotten where the Gryffindor table is or—?’

She had absent-mindedly let her eyes wander towards the Slytherin table, searching for that familiar stone cold stare. It wasn’t there. _He_ was not there. Good. Because if he had been there, she was sure her skin would have fallen off from the embarrassment. There were not enough mental slaps to cover up that feeling. But the worst part was she still wanted to be close to him.

There weren’t that many people in her life with whom she could feel at ease, even like herself—whoever that person was. Being near Tom Riddle felt, in the strangest way possible, like home. And being with Dumbledore brought back to her that same familiar pang the Slytherin’s presence offered. They were her family—a family which was slowly stretching out to include Arthur and even Charlie. But however comforting that seemed in her mind, there were moments when Maud could not—did not want to let herself float in that feeling. Part of her was afraid of growing attached, scared that one day she would wake up lost and alone in a place where the idea of _Maud_ would no longer exist. And that sensation remained with her always, in the back of her mind, bearing the colour of wicked inevitability.

That’s why, sometimes, she’d rather not admit to her emotional attachments which seemed to be easily formed.

 _So he’s not here,_ she thought to herself breathing out a sense of annoyed relief.

‘See? I told you she’d show up eventually,’ laughed Tilda from behind her mug of warm milk. ‘What’d you do? Fall off your broom?’

‘That would not be uncharacteristic of me,’ laughed Maud in return, kicking herself back to the reality of the Great Hall.

‘Well, next time give us a shout-out before Arthur here gives himself a heart-attack out of worry, ok?’ Charlie nudged his friend, a frown on his face. He seemed deep in thought even as he made that comment regarding his best-friend. Perhaps it was Quidditch day. Maud could never tell. Boys.

Arthur coughed nervously and glanced at Charlie.

‘I suppose we should get to practice… Wanna come, Maud?’

She was about to jump right in that boat, but Emryk popped into her mind all of a sudden. She had not seen him that last week at all and worry started to build up inside her.

‘Neah… I’ve had my fair share of brooms and flying for a while. I think I’ll explore the castle,’ smiled Maud, buttering a slice of toast.

‘Well, ok,’ replied Arthur getting up hesitantly. ‘See you…later.’ He left the table, followed closely by the others. He stopped a couple of times, a look of distress on his face as he was about to turn around. But he didn’t.

Maud frowned at her plate. She had a funny feeling something was about to happen.

**.**

 

The boy was trembling violently, his feet were about to give out, sweat was sliding across his cheeks struggling in its effort to reach the comfort of his already drenched robes. Tom was towering over him, inches away from his body. He didn’t even have his wand in hand, yet his presence was enough to make that boy’s heart race towards its end.

‘I am sorry, Mason,’ said Tom menacing, a smile curling up on his lips. ‘I can’t hear you over the sound of your frail, gentle, little heart. What was that you said?’ He bent over, his lips to Mason’s ear. Tom inhaled the sweet scent of pure terror. Lovely.

‘Milord…I…I…’

‘Speak up, little boy. Your friends want to hear it as well.’ If cruelty had had a signature sound, it would have been Tom’s voice.

‘I…I’m sorry…Milord. I…I…said you…you forbid us…to…to…do anything…on the school grounds…Mi…Milord.’

Mason’s muscular body looked as if it had just caved in on itself, trying to hide away from Voldemort’s menacing voice. He was about to faint.

‘Hear that? How kind of dear poor Mason here to remind me of my own words and advise me against whatever it was I had decided to do.’

He laughed. And with him, the entire circle of black cloaked students whose eyes oscillated between viciousness and terror.

‘Since you are so willing to aid me in my plans, Mason, you’ll be the one to do it. And if you so much as stray one inch away from the plan, I will skin you alive and feed you off to the Thresals. What do you say, Mason boy?’

Tom turned around elegantly to inspect the others. The Forbidden Forrest was quaking under his volatile magic. Death was dancing in the meadow and it bore Tom Riddle’s looks.

‘Milord…i—is ve—veerry…kind. T-thank yoouuh…,’ gasped Mason, his heart almost screaming with pain.

‘Good. Go.’

The boy scrambled back to his senses enough to be able to turn around and quickly get out of Tom’s sight.

‘Oh, and Mason? This time remember to erase the sod’s bloody memory, will you?’

The clearing filled with nervous laughter.

‘Ignatius, follow him. Make sure he gets it done.’

‘Yes, milord,’ answered a shadow from the back of the crowd as it made his way towards the edge of the clearing.

Tom smiled pleased. The night was still young.

**.**

**.**

Maud was pouting. She had spent her Sunday looking for Emryk without any luck. She was upset with herself for ignoring the poor bird these past days and there was no one else to blame other than herself if he had decided to leave her. At the same time, even though Maud had wanted to crawl in a hole and never see daylight again for the amount of vulnerability she seemed to lay down at Tom’s feet whenever there was an occasion for it, she was also annoyed by his evident absence the other day. He had been the one to insist on spending the day with her, yet as soon as she left his room it appeared he had changed his mind to a more Tom-like setting, choosing to steer clear of her.

So it came naturally to her to ignore him and continue pouting when he sat down next to her in Potions, self-sufficient and pleased with himself even more than usually.

‘Still scared of Potions? No need to make that face now, I’m here,’ he said to her, charming and smug when he noticed the look on her face.

She turned to him annoyed, daggers shooting from her eyes, but did not reply. Instead, she checked her cauldron to make sure everything was going smoothly. She had just made it that day’s purpose to make an excellent potion without Tom’s help. That way maybe she could wipe off that smug look on his handsome face.

‘Snake got your tongue?’ He was evidently amused by her steely silence.

‘Maud?’

She did not respond. She kept on adding the ingredients, not even turning her head to so much as glance at him.

‘Maud?’ he laughed, but there was an edge to his voice now.

‘Maud! Don’t put that in!’ But it was too late for she had done the unthinkable. She had added dragon fangs into the Yellow Death she was preparing. In a fraction of a second the contents of her cauldron exploded, acid oozing out and smoke pouring into the dungeon, igniting everything in its path. Tom dived, pushing Maud to the ground and away from the poisonous liquid that had started to eat away the desk.

‘Get off! Argh!’ She freed herself from his arms and stood up, her face red with annoyance and embarrassment at the same time. ‘Why do you always have to jump right in? Do I look that incapable? I can manage a bloody potion by myself!’

‘Miss Wulfric, Tom dear, are you alright?’ Professor Slughorn dashed toward them, his wand aimed at Maud’s cauldron which vanished at his gestures. Everyone had cleared the room in panic, running away from the smoke, but the man had dealt with that too. In a few minutes, it was all back to normal. All but a few wounded hearts.

‘Well obviously, you can’t manage a simple bloody potion,’ retorted Tom, dusting himself off, his temper boiling just below the surface.

‘There there, Tom. Not to worry Miss Wulfric, it happens to the best of us,’ tried Slughorn conciliatorily. ‘No harm done, dear—’

‘I would have managed it if you had stopped nagging me with your conceitedness!’ Maud did not hear Professor Slughorn. In fact, she didn’t even notice him.

‘What?’ spat Tom, barely maintaining his composure.

‘Now, I think you’d better head to your common rooms and relax, ey? No need to argue over something so small. Go on, go before you say something you don’t mean.’ Slughorn pushed them toward the door, a bit too anxious to have them gone before a real fight would ignite between them. What was the matter with those two? He had never seen them act so…crossed with each other. But he dismissed the unpleasant feeling in the back of his head and turned around to face the remnants of today’s destruction. Ah, being young, how lovely. He sighed, thinking longingly at the old days when he used to cause the trouble and others would wipe it all away.

Tom was taking long strides to catch up with Maud who was trying her best to get away from him. He reached her in a few seconds, just as she was about to turn left on a deserted corridor, and he planted himself in front of her, blocking the way.

‘Explain yourself,’ he said coldly, his eyes blazing with the rage he was struggling to contain within.

‘It’s your fault!’ cried Maud, crossing her arms and pouting like a small child. She was staring right into his eyes, all the defiance mustered in that one look, that one stance of determination. She was not his toy. She was not weak.

Tom raised his eyebrows at her as if to dare her to prove it.

‘Where were you yesterday?’ she sighed, partially admitting to the source of her annoyance.

‘What?’

‘You asked me to stay with you and I said I would see you at breakfast, but you weren’t there. You weren’t there the entire day…’

‘That’s it?’ Tom’s eyes widened slightly. Blood was boiling in his veins, pumping into his heart, burning him from the inside. He could not understand what was going through her mind and it tortured him. Not knowing, not being able to figure out someone were the shortcomings of a weakling. He had to be in control, he had to understand and manipulate everything and everyone.

‘No, that’s not it, you goblin,’ she poked him in the chest to prove her seriousness.

‘I hate that you always know what to do. I hate that you jump in and save me, but more importantly, I hate that I give you the opportunity to do so. I don’t want to be weak and needy. I want to be able to do a stupid potion without your help, I want to not fall off a broomstick and have you stitch me up. I want to stop having breakdowns in front of you.’

She poked him again in the chest, putting all her anger in that small, insignificant gesture. Maud was blaming him for her own shortcomings.

Tom looked at her frail finger pushing him. There were so many things he could do to her right then, so many ways of approaching her, of breaking her down, of subduing her… Which one to choose? He stared into her eyes. He had never seen her so determined.

‘You can’t just be nice and say things and then disappear…’ Maud stared back at him. She would not back away.

But he was standing still and words failed to form on his lips. Once again, Tom Riddle had become a statue. And once again he was torn, not knowing how to act, what to do. It infuriated him beyond belief and he seemed to be one step away from snapping Maud’s neck in the most atrocious manner possible, thus severing the cause of his turmoil. It would be so simple for him. He thought of it so often… Yet he couldn’t… He would not. Because behind the bliss of blood, some part of him guessed the result of such an action. And that fraction of himself did not want to spare the world of Maud’s delightfully annoying breathing.

As he stood there, unmoving and quiet, a wicked idea rose from the whirlpool of thoughts. That would most certainly be interesting.

‘Then go,’ he said simply after a while.

‘What?’

‘You heard me. Go. I don’t need some weak girl clinging to me.’

Maud’s eyes darkened with pain at the sound of his words. She clenched her teeth and backed away slowly, trying hard to not show any emotions. But Tom could see he had hurt her.

‘Run away, you pathetic little lion,’ he spat as she turned around and walked away, almost running.’

He smirked as he made two steps toward another deserted corridor, when Maud stopped abruptly. She turned around slowly.

‘No!’

Tom widened his eyes in surprise.

‘You don’t get to say stuff like that and then just walk away!’ She quickly closed the distance between them, her face a mixture of pain and determination. They were now inches apart.

‘Oh, I’m scared now. What are you going to do? Hug me to death?’ asked Tom dryly. However, to him, she looked as though she was about to kiss him, not hug him. Either way, he was intrigued.

‘I am not a weak, pathetic girl you complete twat!’ she muttered through greeted teeth, slapping him with all the strength she had.

Tom’s eyes were wide in shock and his hand was feeling the red mark left on his cheek.

‘How dare you!’ he yelled, taking out his wand so quickly Maud could barely see it before he sent a red light at her. It propelled her into the nearest wall but she somehow managed to get back on her feet, her wand aiming at him.

‘How dare I? How dare you! You’re the one that goes around insulting people!’ She sent a blinding light at him but he dodged it effortlessly. He screamed in anger as he replied with another red curse. This time, however, Maud blocked it.

‘ _Stupefy!_ ’ she cried, putting everything she had in that spell.

Tom waved his wand at the light, making it vanish long before it could hit him.

‘You honestly think you are a match for _me_? Foolish girl!’ He sent another wave of curses at her which she used a shield against. But they were all too powerful and the white light shield did not last long before it crumbled before her, letting red spikes hit her at full speed. Maud groaned in pain but kept her footing.

‘ _CONFRINGO!_ ’ cried Maud, stepping forward as she channelled everything she had ever felt into that one curse. A curse which received more than it should have for it turned into a beast of fire and light, raging toward Tom. However, his own wand produced something equally, if not more terrifying. His gruesome, gigantic smoke snake charged at Maud’s beast. They clashed, turning into two lights, black and white, trying to eat each other, hissing and cackling.

Maud’s heart was racing, pumping the anger throughout her entire body, fuelling her magic and determination. She stepped closer, fighting to keep the wand in her hands. Tom was also struggling, but he seemed more composed than her. He too was closing in the distance, as if to force the two lights to extinguish themselves, feeding off each other.

‘Take it back!’ yelled Maud, a tear straying on her cheek.

‘What? Little girl can’t handle a bit of magic?’ laughed Tom coldly, looking at her hungrily. His curse was devouring hers.

‘Stop it! STOP. IT!!!’ Maud was staring back at him. All she wanted was for the two lights to disappear so she could punch the cruelty out of Tom, teach him a lesson.

‘Make me!’ hissed Tom.

Maud screamed in frustration and sent another surge of power to her wand, willing her curse to outlive Tom’s, willing her monster back into existence. And sure enough, the fire beast reappeared from the tip of her wand, roaring at the black light, gulping it all in. Maud waved her wand and the lights vanished, giving her enough time to close the distance between the two of them once more, before Tom would have a chance to send a another curse at her. She swung her fist at him, but this time Tom was ready. He grabbed her hand, almost crushing her wrist in his hand.

‘Why are you acting like this?’ cried Maud, her eyes swimming in anger and frustration.

‘You started it!’ hissed Tom. ‘Who do you think you are? You are nothing! Nothing! I could crush you right now!’

Maud dropped her wand and slapped him again, kicking him with her feet at the same time. She put everything she had in those movements, slapping, clawing, pinching or kicking him, whatever worked. But Tom caught her other hand as well. Crushing her bones, fighting to keep her still. Maud wriggled and kicked, struggling to get away from him and at the same time cause some damage. He was digging his fingers in her skin with thirst, his eyes burning with rage as he tightened his grip on her. He pinned her against the wall, using his body to keep her still. Maud could no longer get at him. His head was against hers, the side of their temples skin to skin.

‘You are nothing,’ hissed Tom once more, her heartbeat ringing in his head, taunting him. ‘I could crush you right here, drain the life out of you. And you would be helpless…’

His voice crawled on her skin, sending shivers down her spine and in her heart. And though he did his best to put all the cruelty possible in those words, Maud, in her foolish innocence, felt the unmistakable pang of loneliness. She felt the evil, the blood thirst, that mad, undeniably terrifying power inside him, but she also felt the emptiness. The cold recess of his soul, untouched, frozen in unknown pain. She felt it as though it was inside her, burning her, ripping her soul apart.

‘I am not helpless, Tom,’ she whispered, unflinching, unwavering.

Tom’s heart skipped a beat. His hand was now resting on her shoulder, his fingers brushing her neck.

‘I know you didn’t mean that…’ She pressed her head harder against his, trying to move it somehow so she could look him in the eye. But he didn’t let her. His own body seemed to have become heavier just to keep her in place.

‘You don’t know anything,’ he hissed menacingly, his fingers wrapping around her fragile neck. His breathing quickened, the thrill rising from deep within, begging him.

‘You...’

He turned his face so he could look her in the eyes.

‘Little...’

He inched closer.

‘Lion.’

His lips slowly crushed hers, testing the sensation. Tom’s fingers were vibrating with Maud’s rapid pulse. There was something so comforting in having her so near him, crushed against him, breathing through him. And she was still there, leaning into him, clinging to his body even though he had released her. She was kissing him back, holding him and not hitting or scratching him.

Tom’s heart was violently hitting his ribcage and his blood was twisting and turning in his veins. Everything seemed to overflow inside him, the world was flooding in and he was spilling out. He had never felt like this. Maud was holding him and at the same time she was desperately clinging to him, to wanting to let him go. She was claiming him as much as she was surrendering. And in that moment, Tom knew. He knew that he wanted her dead as much as he needed her with him, forever. Her fingers were in his chest, her lips soft. He put his hands around her waist, almost crushing her.

He pulled back, but not entirely, his forehead resting on hers, their eyes closed. Tom wanted to scream in frustration. Inside, he was being ripped apart. He wanted to run away from her, from that sensation, and simultaneously stay right there, with her secured in his arms, forever. He clenched his jaw, his eyes painfully shut.

‘Tom…’ whispered Maud, feeling as conflicted as he. There had never been a moment when she had felt so terrified yet at the same time safe. Something inside her told her she shouldn’t be there, that she should run in the opposite direction. But she couldn’t. It was too late. No matter what, Tom would forever be loved.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for the long wait, but I hope it's worth it.   
> I want to thank you all for reading and reviewing this story. You are the best.   
> Live long and prosper, dear readers.


	14. Friends and Followers

Maud burst through the doors, charging in with no regard for Madam Creavey’s outraged gasps and half-worded protests. She ran to the other end of the room where a body was breathing heavily, wrapped tightly in crisp white sheets. The only splash of colour came from his brown hair, a vibrant mess against the pillows.

She collapsed on the chair next to his bed, her face even paler than his. The nightstand was covered with chocolate frogs, flowers, and miniature broomsticks that were flying in circles above a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans. Madam Creavey had caught up with her, but the sight silenced any reprimands that might have formed on her lips.

‘You shouldn’t be here, Maud… Especially so near curfew. I’ll give you ten minutes, no more. Then you have to get back to your common room, agreed?’

‘Yes…thank you,’ she whispered weakly, edging closer to his bed.

Madam Creavey sighed heavily and turned on her heels, the sound of her robes cutting through the silence. Arthur rolled over, entangling himself in the sheets, giving out a low whimper of pain as he opened his eyes slowly.

‘Maud?...’ he whispered, the pain in his eyes igniting once more.

‘Shh, go back to sleep,’ she tried, but it was too late. He extended his arm toward her, the effort evident on his tired, bruised face. It had deep cuts and dark bruises from finger to elbow. Maud flinched as though she could feel his pain with every inch of her own skin. She grabbed gently his hand, smiling weakly at his own shadow of a smile.

‘I’m ok. You should see the other guy,’ he tried to joke, his voice a raggedy whisper.

‘Who did this, Arthur?’

‘A couple of Slytherins…but I only saw one of them and he’s in a pretty bad shape now, if you’re thinking of avenging me.’

He smiled, tears barely contained behind his eyes as the pain of stretching his skin seemed too much to bear for a moment.

‘But how? Why?...’

‘Really now…does it even matter? They’re Slytherins, I’m a Gryffindor. We beat the shit out of them at Quidditch last week. I suppose they’ve had it in for me for quite some time now.’

He closed his eyes for a moment, frowning as he struggled to push back the burning in his skin.

‘But how did you know?’ he managed to ask her after a few seconds. ‘I told Tilda not to say anything…not to worry you…’

‘Oh, you doof… Charlie told me. He couldn’t lie to me when I asked what had happened to you. I’m not that thick, you know? I was bound to ask questions when you weren’t anywhere to be found for two days. I was scared…’

Maud let go of his hand and looked at her feet. With Emryk still missing and Arthur’s sudden disappearance, she had thought history was about to repeat itself and she will wake up the next day to hear the Caretaker announce Arthur’s death. To make matters worse, Dumbledore had been gone the past week as well, something to do with some old friends, and she and Tom had been avoiding each other since their…fight. It was now the end of October and she had not spoken to him, not really, for two weeks. And now Arthur… she sighed, looking up at the boy who was still trying to give her his trademark smile as a way of comforting her.

‘Are you in pain?... Yes, of course you are, what a stupid question. Merlin! I don’t know what to do. How can I help you?’ She was desperate to make things better, in any way, for anyone.

‘Maud, calm down. I will be alright. Madam Creavey said I’ll be able to leave the Hospital Wing in a couple of days. But you know what?’

‘What?’

‘You can help me by being alright yourself, ok?’ He smiled weakly once more, his eyes lighting up with optimism.

‘Ok.’

Maud smiled back, half-heartedly, but she smiled nonetheless.

‘And one more thing, when I get back, I want to have a talk with you, alright? So stop hiding away from people, promise?’

‘You’re the one in pain and you’re still taking care of me,’ laughed Maud, more embarrassed than she thought was humanly possible. She was the most useless being in that entire castle. Everyone was taking care of her, as if she had one of those faces…

‘Well, you do look like you need it,’ confessed Arthur.

‘Shut up,’ laughed Maud, getting up to leave.

‘Hey! Wait! You’re leaving so soon? I mean, you woke me up just for five minutes of this?’ Arthur was looking at her with puppy eyes, the glint of disappointment twinkling merrily in a sea of green.

‘Yes. I am that selfish,’ she bent over and kissed him on the forehead, much like a sister would do with a troublemaker brother for whom she cares deeply nonetheless.

He watched her turn around with sadness in his face and then he rolled over, taking shelter beneath his pearl-white sheets. He sighed and the sound of it covered Maud’s last steps in the room and the surprised gasp as she stumbled upon Tom.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, her heart pounding in her chest.

‘I was patrolling when Madam Creavey asked me to escort you to your common room, seeing as you have little to no respect whatsoever for the school’s rules, especially for its curfew.’

Tom’s voice was a cold and paced waterfall of words and it sent shivers down Maud’s spine. It was a bit ironic that Madam Creavey would go to Tom to make sure she would get to her common room safely, when he seemed exponentially more dangerous than any other rebellious Slytherin that had a bone to pick with the House of Gryffindor. He let her take the lead as they exited the Hospital Wing. Maud was nervous and suspicious. She hadn’t properly talked to him since that unexpected duel and, although she felt a dreaded discussion was inevitably close to her, she was still afraid. First of all, because Tom had showed to her a face she had only guessed existed, a vicious, dangerous and cruel face. And he was so powerful there was little doubt he wouldn’t crush her if he ever so desired. There were still so many things she didn’t know about him, and to top all that, the way he kissed her terrified her the most. Because it seemed he had made up his mind at the last moment, between devouring her and holding her, and the result was that intense feeling which almost stopped her heart. She now felt she was bound to him for the rest of eternity, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. Furthermore, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to do something about it. And above everything else, she had the suspicion he hadn’t been patrolling near the Hospital Wing by chance.

‘What were you doing there?’ he asked coldly, bringing her back from her thoughts. He had stopped behind her, tall and imposing, his face an unreadable mask.

‘What?’

Maud was looking at Tom in confusion.

‘I was visiting Arthur,’ she replied simply.

Tom flinched at the boy’s name, a look of displeasure spread across his features. There were so many things to yell at her for and he was having trouble picking just one. So instead he did the next best thing and turned to physically intimidating her for everything she had done wrong in the past weeks. He stepped forward, drowning her small frame in his shadow. Maud however was still confused and could not understand the reason behind his strange behaviour.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked exasperated after a few quiet seconds in which Tom simply stared at her with suffocating intensity.

‘You kissed him,’ he spat, waves of unexpressed anger trembling across his skin.

‘On the forehead.’

‘You. Kissed. Him.’

‘In a sisterly manner.’

Tom groaned in frustration, his knuckles white and trembling. The entire situation confused him beyond belief, yet the only thing he was certain of, was that Maud belonged entirely to him and, therefore, should only show gestures of affection toward him.

‘I don’t think you understand. You are not to touch anyone other than _me_. You’re entirely mine.’

He ran his fingers through her hair, playing with a silky, hazelnut lock, inhaling its scent. That was enough to drive him mad. How could he share such a rare thing with anyone else? He stepped back, his eyes set on hers.

‘Tom, I don’t belong to anyone. Arthur was hurt. He’s my friend. I will do whatever I want, no matter what you think I should or should not do.’

Tom’s eyes were burning. His heart was burning. His skin was burning. Everything around and inside him was burning and the only pocket of air was just one step away. And he hated that.

‘No,’ he concluded as he made that one step and claimed his air. In that moment, he didn’t give one sickle on Maud’s feelings or ideas, all he cared about was consuming even her last drop of determination, thus proving she was no one else’s but his. He cared not for the low rumbling in the depths of his soul which growled and screamed, demanding he severed that which could bring him down. He cared not for Maud’s weak attempts to break free. With one arm he held her pressed against him while his other hand found its way to her hair. And even though Maud tried to convince herself that she hated that, she did not, and she responded accordingly.

‘See?’ he said inching away after the longest minute. ‘…mine.’ His eyes inspected her face and, pleased with what he found, his lips descended on hers once more, this time painfully slow so he could relish in the feeling of testing the conquered soul of his most prized possession. But even now, the difference between the two of them could not have been more striking. For one was deadly, of unparalleled sultriness, as though kissing were a means of killing someone, while the other was gentle, innocent where the other acted with the heart of a sinner, cherishing and nurturing every second. While Tom tried to break, Maud only sought to aid and mend the broken, lonely heart he now shared with the devil. That’s why her hand gently stroked his cheek, even as his fingers tightened their grip on her hair, and she broke their kiss to peck him on the corner of his mouth. And that had Tom’s heart slowing down to a stand-still, for he had never felt anything like that small gesture of innocence. And he was terrified and he was ecstatic.

‘What is this, Tom?’ she whispered, her eyes twinkling.

‘This is me teaching you a lesson.’

‘What happened to Arthur?’

‘What?’ snapped Tom, not expecting that.

‘I am not stupid, you weren’t patrolling around the Hospital Wing by chance. There are so many things I don’t know about you and it scares me. But I’m not stupid, so just tell me. Please.’

His fingers dug in her back and his eyes darkened.

‘I haven’t done anything. I am not responsible for every stray Slytherin.’

‘Then let me take back what I said earlier. I am stupid.’ And with that she freed herself of his grip and stepped back. Tom grabbed her hand, warning her wordlessly not to do anything she’d regret.

‘What are we doing? I don’t know anything about you. And come to think of it, you don’t know much about me either…’

Tom raised an eyebrow smugly. He knew more about her than she could ever fathom.

‘It’s too late for that now, little lion,’ he smiled bitterly at her. Maud mirrored his smile and sighed.

‘Will you at least take me to my common room?’  

Tom smirked and let go of her hand, taking the lead. Without really knowing why, Maud was feeling burdened all of a sudden. Her eyes were sad as she caught up with him, slipping her hand into his, hoping that one gesture would set everything right. It didn’t. But it made Tom gently squeeze her hand and she gave him a weak smile even though he did not turn his head to look at her.

They parted in front of the Fat Lady’s portrait, who was desperately trying to get Tom’s attention. She slipped through the passageway without saying anything to him, much to his annoyance. He wasn’t sure if that was Maud’s idea of punishing him or if she was simply too tired to even notice the lack of respect her behaviour exuded. Either way, he threw her one last angry look before turning on his heels, his veins throbbing painfully underneath his cold skin.

Maud’s heart trembled slightly in the passageway. She had hoped Tom would stop her at the last minute and hug her or give her a kiss on the cheek, anything really that could have passed for a sign of affection. The more rational part of her knew, however, that such things were beyond, above, or even beneath Tom Riddle, depending on how you looked at it.   
But even so, she was still disappointed with him. Actually, she was disappointed with her own self, come to think of it. For which part of her was so thick it could ignore the pressing matter of Arthur’s attacker? Maud sensed there was something dubious behind that incident, regardless of how much she hoped, even against her better judgement, that Tom was not behind all that. But there were too many things she didn’t know about him and her instinct would not let that pass. No matter how long it would take, she would find out the truth eventually.

‘So, you saw Arthur?’ asked Tilda from behind a pink little diary. She was curled up on an armchair, near the fire.

‘Yeah…’

‘You alright?’

‘Mhm…Just tired, I’ll talk to you in the morning. Good night,’ Maud smiled at her, hoping it would be enough to make her sound less rude.

‘Oki doki. Good night!’

Tilda gave her a big, heart-melting smile, the kind she flashed at teachers whenever she wanted to point out that she deserved more points for her irreproachable behaviour than she had already received.

Maud climbed the stairs to her room with determination, each step taken building up her resolution. She would figure Tom Riddle out and she would prove to everybody, including herself, that she was not weak and she would not let herself be beaten down by anything or anyone.

When she climbed on her bed, curling into a ball underneath her warm blankets, her resolve’s strength wavered only for a few seconds, after noticing the empty cage. Closing her eyes, Maud imagined herself in a perfect world, where Emryk had returned to her, her roommates were still alive and Tom Riddle was not a riddle. She sighed and drifted into a deeper sleep, where her usual nightmare was waiting to try and tear her apart once more.

At the same time, in a different part of the castle, Tom Riddle was groaning, as though defeated by an invisible power which was now crushing him against his own bed. He rolled over, clutching the warm blanket in his hand in the same manner a man would strangle his mortal enemy. There was no use. He felt cold and empty which annoyed him greatly. If he could, he would have summoned Maud by his side. But he would never admit that to anyone, especially to his own self.

**_._ **

**_._ **

 

Maud was sitting next to Arthur in Transfiguration, eager to become a better friend. It was also Dumbledore’s first day back at school and Maud’s mood was most definitely improved by that, even though he looked more thoughtful than usual, the almost imperceptible shadow of sadness burdening his features as he watched her exchange jokes with her friend.

Tom, on the other hand bore an unsettling chillness upon his face, his eyes darting occasionally toward Maud and Arthur. Lately, the girl’s every gesture managed to spike a change in his disposition, a change his followers would undoubtedly feel on their own skin, sooner or later. She was not avoiding him, but her attitude towards him was visibly different, more guarded and reserved, as though doubt had sprung to life inside her and she was drifting away from him out of fear. Tom’s biggest regret was that he did not curse that useless Slytherin and the obnoxious Gryffindor so they would kill each other in a duel, therefore eliminating even the faintest doubt regarding his _innocence_. Now, however, he was under the impression that Maud was purposefully pushing him away, convinced that she was searching for proof to sustain her doubts, and that drove him mad.

Dumbledore dismissed the class and Maud jumped to her feet. For the past hour, her eyes had been drifting toward Tom, as though he was a magnet her pupils simply couldn’t resist. She was uncomfortable being in the same room as he, partly because she was still afraid, a feeling she had been carrying with her ever since he kissed her, and partly because she always felt the need to get closer, like a moth attracted to a flame. But what’s more is that she wasn’t afraid she would physically hurt her, no. Ever since she had started to get attached to other people, Dumbledore, Tom, Arthur, Tilda, even Charlie, she had become increasingly afraid of losing them. And now the idea that Tom could be the one to decimate that ridiculously small number of friends kept eating at her insides.

‘Aren’t you coming to lunch?’

‘Oh, yes…’ Maud was standing in the corridor, her body itching to go in the opposite direction. Arthur was waiting impatiently at the top of the stairs, obviously famished.

‘Well, come on then.’

‘I’ll just stop really quickly in the common room to get rid of these books, ok?’

She smiled at him and he shrugged, muttering a ‘suit yourself’, his mind set on one thing and one thing only: _lemon pie._ As he limped down the stairs, Maud started climbing up, toward the common room.

She was about to turn around the corner, on a seemingly deserted corridor to use a shortcut when two voices stopped her dead in her tracks. She peered onto to the corridor from behind a dusty old statue, its face eaten away by time.

‘I tell you Greymir, you have to come tonight. It will be worse if you don’t,’ said a tall, slender Slytherin bending over the much smaller, much more solid looking companion who was bearing the colours of Ravenclaw. The boy was trembling in the shadow of his friend, his eyes racing nervously around him, as though he was afraid someone or something would rise up from the dark corners of the corridor. Maud edged closer so she could hear better, her heart pounding in her chest. She had a bad feeling.

‘He’s not been in a good mood lately…and…and… with my brother being the one who screwed up on that attack on the Gryffindor… What if he’ll make me fix it?’

His voice was hushed, but sometimes the fear inside him would raise a couple of octaves, reaching a desperate squeal that screeched Maud’s ears. The taller boy was also nervous, but his body remained unmoved, like a statue. He too looked around to make sure there was no one there.

‘Don’t be stupid, the Dark Lord will be far more annoyed with you if you cower away in a corner. This is your time to prove yourself. Be there tonight. The Forbidden Forest, at midnight…be there!’

The tall Slytherin squeezed the Ravenclaw’s shoulder before turning around. Maud crouched in the shadows behind the statue, her hand covering her mouth. The Slytherin stopped near the statue, his ears twitching.

‘What are you still waiting?’ he shouted over his shoulder, making Maud’s heart sink with dread before she realized he was calling out to the other boy. ‘Get going, Greymir.’

His voice pierced through the cold air, making Greymir jump as though he’d been burned by an invisible curse. He turned around and almost ran away, his body disappearing behind the far corner of the corridor.

The Slytherin glanced at the statue, puffing in disgust at the rotting stone face. His jet black hair was messy, partly covering his forehead. Even though Maud was hidden completely by the shadows, she could still feel his intimidating presence, as though snakes were crawling on her skin.

Finally, she heard his steps slowly going away, her heart still trembling in her chest. After a few more minutes, she came out from behind the statue, her face still bearing the shadows of a shock.

‘The dark lord? The attack on the Gryffindor… but that must be Arthur.’

She ran away, her mind set on getting her body to the Gryffindor Tower before anything else, or anyone else could happen. She was determined to go to the Forbidden Forrest that night and find out what those boys were talking about.

‘Yes, that wasn’t slow at all. You are really fast Maud. We’ve just started on desert…’ Arthur was raising his eyebrow at her in amused confusion when she sat down at the table, out of breath. There was a golden lemon pie in front of him, spreading around a warm, sweet scent.

‘Are you alright? You’re ghost-pale…’

‘Mhm…’

She took his pie and placed it in front of her, her fork digging into it rapidly.

‘Yeah, sure, take my pie.’

Arthur was laughing gingerly, but there was worry in his eyes.

‘Sorry…It’s just delicious.’

‘I know, that’s why it was on my plate,’ he took his fork and dug it in as well.

‘You missed quite the speech from Dippet…Apparently there’s this rogue animal out in the woods killing everything, from animals to centaurs and humans and he asked us not to venture near the Forest, not even during the day. Honestly…’ he was taking another bite from the pie, his fork clinging against Maud’s. They battled over a piece of pie, Maud’s laughter escaping nervously from behind her lips. She was starting to calm down, though what Arthur was saying wasn’t exactly comforting.

‘Honestly,’ he continued through the broad smile now plastered on his face. ‘As if there’s someone that stupid…to venture out into the Forbidden Forest at night.’

‘So you wouldn’t venture out into the Forest at night?’ jumped in Tilda, her eyes gleaming at the two of them.

‘Well of course…’ he grinned at her. ‘Just not while there’s a blood thirsty animal killing everything in its path…at least not with this limp.’

Tilda rolled her eyes, returning to her strawberry tart.

Maud dropped her fork and turned around. There was suddenly a burning pain stabbing her at the back of her skull, as though someone was shooting flaming daggers at her head. But there were no daggers, only Tom’s eyes piercing through her scalp, digging inside her brain with the passion of a mad fire consuming an entire mansion. Maud gave him a weak smile and a wave, but worry was infesting her heart. His eyes softened then and she could see a sad spark twinkling behind his lashes. Just tell me you had nothing to do with Arthur’s attack, thought Maud desperately, against all common sense. He looked bitterly at her, as though he had heard her. Even then she could sense the tension rise between them. Lately, Maud was under the impression he was oscillating between hating her and caring for her in a way only he understood. Possibly not even him.

She sighed and turned back to Arthur’s pie, but she was no longer hungry.

**.**

At midnight, Maud worked up the courage and sneaked out of the Gryffindor Tower. The castle was seemingly deserted, but she moved carefully, not wanting to wake up any paintings or something worse. She kept in the shadows, her wand lowered so she could see the floor and a little ahead. Everything seemed lifeless, still, an immense castle of stone with everything inside it an unmoving statue. Even the stairs had stopped moving and so the only sound that penetrated that unnatural silence was her own breathing, sometimes accompanied by a careless step, too loud for the sleepy echoes.

She tip-toed out of the entrance hall and exhaled in relief only to tense up the next second. There was still the courtyard to cross, not to mention the exponentially more dangerous forest. The moon was casting a pale, silvery light, showering the barren trees and the dead patches of grass. Even here there was no sound, no movement. There were no sharp gusts of wind, no howling, no cries from lonely crickets, only a stillness that seemed to silently bark at her for being disturbed at such an ungodly hour. It was the kind of night not even creatures of darkness would claim.

Maud ran across the courtyard and the hill, desperate to get into the Forbidden Forest and perhaps escape the quietness that surrounded the castle. The only thing she had to thank Merlin for was the moon, which was not full so she at least didn’t have to fear werewolves, but it was still plump enough to cast a comforting light. However, the moment she retreated behind the trees, that reassuring light was cut off, the thick branches allowing only a few stray rays to penetrate the ominous shadows. And still, everything was quiet. No twigs were snapping behind large trunks, no hooves were hitting the ground, no whispers passed between wanderers.

Trying to swallow down her fear and failing, her heart hammering soundlessly in her chest, Maud raised her wand and whispered:

‘ _Homenum Revelio!_ ’

A timid gust of wind came out of the tip, pulling her and her wand toward the dark pits of the forest. Maud let herself be guided by her wand, advancing slowly and carefully. Please, she thought to herself, let there be no killing or maiming tonight. She kept thinking how ignorance is bliss and whether or not she should turn around before her worst fears would be confirmed. She wanted so bad for Tom to be innocent. She needed it to be true. But she vowed to herself she would not be a coward, she would be brave and she would stare down into the ugly face of truth. There were so many things hidden in her life, she could not allow whatever she had with Tom to be built on lies and omissions.

After what felt like more than fifteen minutes of walking clumsily through the forest, Maud saw a patch of greyish trees. She squinted her eyes and that undefined patch became a clearing bathing in the moonlight. She could also hear low murmurs and the crushing of fragile twigs beneath heavy footsteps. A flick of her wand and the light was killed from the tip, leaving Maud concealed in the choking shadow.

Her heart was trembling as she advanced as quietly as it was humanly possible, crouching behind large tree trunks. She could feel her blood slowing down in anticipation, leaving her skin colder than ice. A few more steps…a few more…another…half of step…down. She crawled behind a large tree, its roots spread across the ground like a brown web. The tree was just at the edge of the clearing, a few feet away from the nearest silhouette—a student.

‘My brother was expelled, my lord…Father tried to persuade Dippet, but he said there were too many complaints from parents about Digby, too many slip-offs. He could not let it slide this time as well...’

Greymir’s voice reached Maud as a whimper, a pathetic, trembling whisper. But it was the second voice that stunned her, leaving her breathless in a pit of despair and useless, powerless denial.

‘Pity… Though he was, as his last task had proven to us, quite useless. Stop trembling Greymir, if I wanted to see trembling pigs I would have visited the Gamekeeper’s hut.’

Tom’s cold voice echoed in the clearing.

‘He couldn’t even take on a single, unsuspecting bloody Gryffindor. I truly hope, Greymir, you are not of the same stuff your brother was made of. Black!’

‘Yes, milord?’ it was the tall, black-haired Slytherin that had convinced Greymir to come that spoke.

Maud peered from behind the tree, trying to see Tom amongst the sea of dark cloaks, as though hearing him was not proof enough.

‘Where is _he_?’ Tom’s voice was more menacing and cruel than she ever thought it could be.

‘Malfoy’s bringing him, milord,’ replied Black cold and detached, as though nothing on that world could ever touch him or bother him.

Before the Dark Lord could snap at Malfoy’s evident absence, the crowd split in two and through it passed a murmur of robes. Malfoy had appeared from the right, safely away from where Maud was hiding. He was dragging someone with him, a boy who was kicking the air with his feet, trying to get away and at the same time too scared to even cry for help. The circle broke, silhouettes gathering in small groups to whisper fervently, letting between them enough space for Maud to see Tom’s imposing form casting a long, dark shadow around him. She gasped in surprise but it was too low for anyone to pick up the sound. Tom’s face was pale white, cold, detached and unmoved, much like a statue of a cruel, heartless god. But where a statue’s eyes would be empty, his were carrying a burning light that could have been pain or loneliness, but also passion, anger, madness or pure hunger. And seeing him like that stopped Maud’s heart.

She watched transfixed as the tall, handsome blonde boy—Malfoy—bearing the colours of Salazar Slytherin, dropped the trembling form of a Hufflepuff at Tom’s feet. The boy, despite being smaller in height than Malfoy, was more muscular than the Slytherin, and his face was chiselled in more cruel shapes and shadows. He did not look much like an innocent Hufflepuff dragged into a nasty business despite his own will. To Maud, he looked like a bully scared to have been caught by what seemed to be a much bigger bully.

‘To what do we owe this pleasure, Augustus Bones?’ smiled Tom cruelly.

Augustus Bones remained silent, his nails digging into the ground as he bit into his lips painfully.

‘It appears that dear Augustus has lost his sharp tongue.’

The crowd laughed, a hint of cruelty hidden there as well, although a layer of nervousness covered it. Maud could see there were students from every house, even two Gryffindors, although most of them wore green or blue. What was that? A cult? Was Tom some kind of god in their eyes or what? A tutor in the arts of terror?

Augustus murmured something under his breath.

‘Speak up, boy!’ growled Tom.

‘As always, you hide behind numbers, Riddle. But you’re nothing! You are a filthy half—aaaaaaaaaaah!’

Tom cut him off with a wave of his wand and something pierced Augustus’ forearms, causing blood to rush out of his veins.

‘Now now, Augustus, where are your manners?’

His voice was cold, sending shivers down everyone’s spine with every syllable he uttered.

‘Stand up, you pathetic excuse of a wizard! STAND UP AND FACE YOUR SUPERIOR!’ He yelled, madness sparking up in his eyes.

‘Now, because I am merciful, I will let you have your duel. Give him his wand.’

Black threw the wand in front of Bones which he picked up hastily, his face screwed up in pain and anger.

‘You will regret this…’ spat Augustus.

‘Look closely everyone. Let this be a lesson to all who think I can be easily betrayed.’

Augustus scrambled to his feet and pointed his wand at Tom. ‘ _CRU—_ ’ Tom threw a red lightning at the Hufflepuff before he could finish the incantation, sending him flying backwards. Cursing and yelling at the same time, he jumped back to his feet, a deep cut above his left knee. He sent curse after curse, yelling one incantation after another, but Tom blocked all of them, transforming every inch of coloured light into dust. He smiled maniacally at the boy and pointed the wand at his heart before he could send another curse thrusting across the clearing.

There was no light, no incantation spoken, only an inhuman cry that broke away from Augustus as he crashed down in pain, his whole body trembling. His arms and legs were bent in an awkward position. Maud could hear the bones crack and snap, she could see the blood dripping from his mouth. For a moment, she swore she could hear even his heart scream in pain before it was muffled up by the laughter spreading across the crowd. She looked at Tom who’s lips were smiling with pleasure, his eyes dark with lust for pain and power and magic. The bones were still cracking, even more loudly now, and the blood was still dripping on the ground. It was too much. Maud’s own limbs and bones were starting to hurt, crumbling with the sympathy pain she felt run through her body. Gasping for air, she scrambled to her feet, not hearing the twigs breaking loudly under her weight, not hearing the silence as she ran away, nor the cried:  ‘ _Who’s there?’,_ or _‘Get them!’_. She ran as fast as she could, in whatever direction could carry her farther away from the clearing. Only when the first curse came swishing by her ear, burning through a tree on her left, did she hear the yells and feet thumping on the ground behind her. She chanced a glance behind. They were all after her.

 _‘STUPEFY!’_ she cried above her shoulder. She sent more curses without even looking or yelling the incantations, just hoping it would hit someone as she dashed through the forest, hoping to get swallowed by the darkness.

Desperate, hearing them closing in on her, she held out her wand and thought of fog. She didn’t know any spells for conjuring fog or smoke, she just willed it out of her wand, believing in it until it came into existence, surrounding her, spreading around her like a thick silvery veil of oblivion. She kept on running, not daring to light her way with the wand for fear of being discovered. The cries were still advancing on her.

‘Spread around!’ yelled someone alarmingly close.

So she ran and ran, hoping she won’t hit a tree, until her leg caught in a root and she collapsed on the ground. Whimpering, she felt her surrounding area with her palms, searching for a tree to hide behind. She sensed the blood running down her left foot, but she could not bend it. I’m done, she thought to herself just as her hands came in contact with the rough surface of a tree trunk. She crawled behind it, curling up at its base, her heart yelling, trembling, hammering against her chest. The voices were getting farther and farther, spreading around her and moving away. Her left foot was stretched, but she was hugging the other one, trying to make herself the size of a kitten, praying for the fog to last.

But just as she was starting to worry that the silvery smoke was getting thinner, a twig snapped not two feet away and she could hear someone’s, or something’s low breathing. Wand in hand, she tried to turn around, enough so she could send a curse at whatever caused the twig to break, but it was too late. Two large hands encircled her, one grabbing her wand and the other pressed against her mouth. She tried to wriggle away but iron bent easier than those two arms.

‘Nice fog spell,’ whispered the attacker and Maud could feel him grin behind her. He took the wand from her hand and let her go, the tip of his own wand remaining pressed against the back of her skull, threateningly.

‘Stand up slowly,’ the attacker whispered again, his voice deep with a trace of amusement in it.

‘I can’t,’ replied Maud grudgingly. ‘I can’t bend my leg.’

‘How convenient,’ he chuckled. ‘I don’t have to break it myself.’

He grabbed her hands quickly and forced her on her feet, pressing her against him to keep her standing. He stepped backwards, his hand on her shoulder to steady her and he muttered something Maud could not make out. Her hands snapped themselves together in front of her as a dark rope coiled itself around her wrists, making sure she could not move them.

Maud looked desperately around her, the fog was clearing up, eaten away by the dark of the forest. Her left leg hurt too much to even stand on it, let alone make a run for it, in the Forbidden Forest, with no wand and her hands tied up.

‘I’m sorry little girl, but you had to eavesdrop…’

He came in front of her, his hand still on her shoulder, his iron grip keeping her steady. Maud’s eyes widened. Even in the dark she could tell it was the same Slytherin boy she had seen in the corridor, the one Tom had called Black.

‘I could carry you using the wand, make you levitate, but I’m afraid there would be no chance of you not hitting at least five trees.’

‘Then let me go,’ said Maud stupidly.

Black chuckled once more and she could see in the dark a line of perfectly straight, blindingly white teeth. ‘Can’t do that…you brought this on yourself.’ He picked her up and she whimpered as her leg was forced to bend against his solid arm.

He kept a tight grip on her as he turned around and took long strides toward the clearing. Maud’s heart was beating loudly inside her ribcage. Even if she tried to fight him off, she wouldn’t be able to do much. As they neared their destination, her blood slowed down, freezing with dread.

‘Please…’ she whispered, terror creeping up inside her. ‘Let me go, tell him you didn’t find me, tell him anything. Tell him an animal tore me apart in front of you; just don’t give me to him.’

‘I can’t do that, little girl,’ chuckled Black. ‘You’d just run off to the headmaster and rat us out.’

‘As if that would solve anything,’ scoffed Maud, bitterness pouring out of her.

Black laughed but did not reply. She could see the clearing now, that same patch of greyish trees she had spotted earlier.

‘Curiosity kills more than a cat…’

‘Yes, yes it does,’ replied Black in a neutral tone.

They had reached the edge of the clearing which was now empty, except for Tom’s dark silhouette. There was no sign of Augustus Bones or any of his followers. They must still be searching, thought Maud against the loud sound of her own terrified heart.

‘Milord…’ said Black approaching his lord.

Tom turned around, anger on his face. But the moment he saw Maud, his eyes widened slightly in surprise only for his face to turn into an unreadable mask the next moment. There was no recognizable emotion there.

‘She was the one who was spying on us.’

‘Leave us,’ the Dark Lord said dryly. Black let her down carefully, making sure she was standing on her good foot before approaching his lord to give him her wand.

‘Find the others and call the search off, then go back to the castle. All of you. Right now.’

Black nodded and hurried out of the clearing.

The moment he had left, Tom’s face came back to life, anger spread across his features once more. But there was worry too. Maud’s heart was about to give out. She tried to step backwards as he advanced on her, but her leg screamed in pain and refused to sustain her. He caught her before she could hit the ground, his face a mixture of worry and palpable wrath.

‘Are you insane?’ he whispered through gritted teeth.

Maud did not reply. She was too scared and angry at the same time.

‘What are you doing in the bloody forest at night? There’s a bloody predator out there hunting everything that moves,’ his voice was low and threatening, darkness seeping out from underneath it as he swore fervently. She had never heard him swear before. Not like that. His arms were still around her and he was almost crushing her.

He looked at her with mad eyes, searching her face for a response. Maud guessed there were only pain, fear and anger to be found there. He put her on the ground, as gently as his temper allowed and ripped apart the ropes that tied her hands together. She gasped in pain as it cut through her skin and she could see a flash of regret washing over Tom’s face as he traced the red marks left by the rope. Maud pulled away her hands, her eyes sparkling painfully.

‘Maud, talk to me!’ demanded Tom, though his eyes were almost pleading. Maud turned her head away and did not say a word.

‘TALK TO ME!’ he yelled, desperation pouring out of his every cell, his hand crushing her injured leg painfully.

She closed her eyes, her body trembling slightly. It’s the cold and the pain, she lied to herself while ordering her tears to stay put.

Tom grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.

‘Maud. Talk. To. Me!’ his voice was a threatening hiss.

‘You ordered the attack on Arthur!!!’ she yelled in response, not bearing it anymore. He looked taken aback for a moment, before his eyes darkened and he stood up.

‘He put you on a broom and left you to die,’ he replied simply as though that justified the entire situation.

‘He did no such thing! I could have refused the broom! No one forced me to do it! It’s my own fault that I fell off and nearly died, which I didn’t after all, as you can see! And even so, are you bloody serious?’

She scrambled onto her feet, whimpering and cursing with pain, both physical and emotional.

‘Who gives you the right to go around and hex people and torture them? ESPECIALLY MY FRIEND?!’

He turned around and closed the distance between them once more, his eyes gleaming dangerously.

‘Power! Power gives me the right to punish the filth!’

‘Arthur is not filth!’

‘He is! He nearly got you killed!’

‘I NEARLY GOT MYSELF KILLED!’

They were mere inches apart and Maud’s hands were clasping Tom’s robes in what she hoped was a painful grip.

‘And what about that Hufflepuff you were torturing earlier? What did he do to deserve it?’

‘He betrayed me.’

Tom’s hands were crushing her wrists.

‘And who are you? The lord of all?’

‘Yes,’ hissed Tom, his nails digging in her skin.

‘Tom, that’s not right.’

‘The world is a horrible place, Maud, I am making it better.’

‘You can’t torture it into a better shape…’

Her eyes were stinging with unshed tears of pain. Her leg was trembling dangerously.

‘You should not have come here tonight…’

Tom’s bitterness floated around them, drowning them, eating them.

‘You should not have harmed Arthur.’

But the boy’s name sparked something in him Maud had never seen there before, not really. Jealousy. Pain. Hatred. Amounts that should not exist in a human being.

‘I am trying to protect what’s mine,’ his voice was a boiling rumble of darkness and resent.

‘But I am not yours! And you are not protecting me. You are hurting me with every step you make and every breath you take!’ Her eyes gave out and tears came flooding down her cheeks. She was at the end of her strength and her conviction was crumbling. The world was too big for her. She was not strong enough. She was too little. And she was scared and alone even then, as Tom crushed her wrists. But even while she cried, her voice still rose up, rippling all over Tom’s skin, twisting his insides.

‘I don’t know anything. I don’t know who I truly am. I am alone. I do not belong to anyone, not even to myself so stop bloody claiming me as your own! You selfish, self-centred, egotistical, obsessed man! You hurt my friend and you hurt me! Physically and emotionally! You toy with me and you bully me as though I mean nothing! Well if that’s the case, why don’t you leave me alone? Why did you let me get attached to you? You scare me and you annoy me and what angers me most is that I can’t even get away. Because I need you. For some demented reason…you are all…to me. But I HATE YOU!’

She cried like a small child, her chest trembling with hiccups as she fought him off, trying to free herself from him. He let her go, his expression unreadable except for the conflicted light that burned in his eyes. The sound of her crying so desperately, so hopelessly tore him apart, making him want to scream in agony. He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her even though she flinched with fear.

‘Please stop crying…’ he whispered desperately, his arms covering her, protecting her from the dark and the wind.

‘L-Let me g-go…’

‘No. Never. So stop crying.’

‘I s-said…l-let…m-me go-oh.’ But despite her words, her fingers clung to his robes and her heart quivered against his chest.

‘I promise not to hurt your friends again, alright?’ His lips were pressed against her hair.

‘Never ever?’ asked Maud in a tiny voice between sobs.

‘Never,’ replied Tom.

‘And the torturing?’ asked Maud hopefully, raising her head to look at Tom.

‘You don’t understand…’ growled Tom as he pressed his cheek against hers. But Maud pushed him away, pain evident in her eyes.

‘No, I don’t,’ she whispered as she limped away from him, dragging her left foot after her. Tom caught her hand gently, but even that hurt as her wrists were already bruised.

‘Maud…I…need you,’ he struggled to get the words out, wincing at every syllable.

She refused to answer, but she didn’t fight him off either.

‘I am who I am. You cannot change that. You should have done your research before you befriended me,’ his words were dipped with his cruel self, but there was the shadow of an excuse behind them and Maud knew he spoke the truth. She was so tired, so sick of it all, she nearly asked him to get her home, but her leg gave out a second time and buried her words underneath the pain. Tom caught her at the last moment and let her gently down so he could inspect her wound.

‘Did Black do this to you?’ his voice was a shard of ice.

Maud shook her head, the pain stabbing every nerve in her leg. Tom’s wand hovered above the wound as he muttered an incantation she could not understand. She felt, however, the skin crawling back onto the bone, the muscle relaxing ever so slightly as the warm blood retreated under the skin, inside her veins. The pain simmered down and Tom pocketed his wand.

‘Better?’

Maud nodded, causing him to frown in displeasure at her silence. Nevertheless, he lowered his hand gently to feel her now healed skin, touching her leg lightly in a soothing manner. Tom was no longer feeling himself, but the need to have Maud safe and happy once more outweighed any war raging inside him. 

‘Let me see your hands,’ he said looking up.

She hesitated, afraid he’d try to break them completely, and her reaction brought up a surge of pain and anger to his face. Nonetheless, he contained it and reached slowly for her wrists, so as not to scare her. They were red and the bruises were already turning into agonizingly purple spots. Tom looked with spite at her wrists. It seemed he couldn’t help himself but hurt her whenever a chance arose. He took out his wand again and with the same incantation he made the bruises retreat under her skin, vanishing behind the pale white. He then took her hands and buried his face in them, surrendering to the feeling.

Maud gasped. He wasn’t doing anything really, he was just holding her hands gently against his face and he looked as though he was turning to her for comfort and shelter, turning to her to hide from everything, much like a child would do. But he shouldn’t get this comfort, she thought to herself. He was torturing someone an hour ago. He hurt Arthur. Yes, a voice replied inside her head, but he did that because he hated the idea of her being in danger. Still, she was more in danger when he was around him than around anyone else. She opened her mouth to say something to him, but she shut it quickly. Why wasn’t she afraid right then, having him so near her after all she’d seen? Perhaps there was something wrong with her, but she did not want to lose him. She would rather change reality so nothing of what she had seen that night would be real. But it was…a voice inside her head insisted. But I’m selfish, she pressed on in her mind. Still, he hurt you…

‘I am who I am…’ whispered Tom against her hands, determination, regret, pain and hatred pouring out from behind his words. ‘And I won’t ever let you go, not even when you’ll want me to.’ He raised his head, his eyes burning painfully. Air failed to enter Maud’s lungs. That look scared her more than anything else.

Tom stood up and gave her wand back. She put it in her pocket and tried to get back on her feet, but he was faster and picked her up in his arms.

‘It’s not safe here for you,’ he said gravely and turned toward the edge of the clearing, walking as though she was light as a feather.

‘I can walk now,’ she whispered, trying to wriggle out of his arms. He ignored her, only tightening his grip slightly to make sure she would not get away.

‘My father left my mother when she was still pregnant. After she gave birth to me, she too left, choosing to die rather than fight for me. So no, I won’t let you go. I won’t let you out of my sight.’

Maud stopped moving, her eyes resting in shock on Tom’s expression. His voice had been almost emotionless, but there had been an unbreakable determination behind his words. She did not know what to say. Was that his way of justifying himself or was it an apology for his behaviour?

‘I’m sorry, Tom,’ she whispered in the end, a pang trembling in her heart.

‘I don’t need your pity,’ he replied coldly, but she ignored his tone.

‘No, you don’t…’

Her insides hurt, reverberating with her own pain, Tom’s, that Hufflepuff’s. The whole world seemed to hurt and it was all reflected in her. She no longer knew what or how to feel, if she should fight Tom off or if she should surrender. Why did she care about the monster carrying her out of the woods? He didn’t seem to want her affection, yet, as everything lately, it couldn’t be helped. She felt the tears streaming down her face, but there was no energy left in her to order them to stop. It was the kind of situation one’s tears were worth being spent on.

‘I should hit you for the harm you’re doing to others.’

‘Then why don’t you?’

Tom too seemed at his limits. It was a miracle he was still holding on to her and the flicker of sanity that presumably he owned.

‘I suppose I’m stupid,’ sighed Maud.

‘No. Your heart is just too big, which means it will break more easily.’

He hadn’t meant it as a threat, just as a prophecy bound to come true because she could already feel it cracking inside her chest. Tom was tired and so was his voice. Maud could only guess how much he wanted to lay down his arms against his own self. Perhaps some are born to be monsters…she thought, but then asked herself if monsters shouldn’t be loved just the same.

It was warmer in his arms and Maud let her mind drift away from the impossible situation she was in. Instead, she looked at the small rays of moonlight that battled against the thick branches, trying to find a patch of grass to land on. The forest had remained sunken in the same eerie silence Maud had encountered upon entering it, hours ago. She could feel Tom’s chest rise against her side rhythmically, accompanied by the steady pace of his feet. Her eyes closed slowly, against her will, and she wanted nothing more than to wake up to find out that everything had been a nightmare.

Tom watched her slip into a nervous dream and wished he had never met her, knowing at the same time that he was lying to himself shamelessly. The forest opened itself up, letting them pass through the last of its shadows, onto the lonely, silvery field. He wondered briefly if he should bring her to his chamber before thinking better of it as he steered his body toward the Gryffindor Tower.

 


	15. The Lion

Maud woke up early the next day, her mind racing to piece together the night’s events. Was it all real? It had to be, although she couldn’t quite understand how she got in her own bed. Had Tom carried her all the way to the Gryffindor Tower and into her bed? She couldn’t remember. But her bones did and they screamed as she got up, the ghost of pain still lingering in them as images of the tortured Hufflepuff sprung back to life. She gasped for air, her hand grabbing the bedpost for support, her eyes widened with freshly realized horror. She had run away, the thought of helping that poor boy not even crossing her mind. He deserved it, a wicked voice whispered in her ears.

‘No…no…’

Yesss, he did. He tried to use an unforgivable curse on Tom. He deserved it.

‘No he did not!’

Her whisper was louder than she had anticipated. No one deserves to be tortured. And Tom had done the exact same thing Augustus Bones had tried and failed. The ugly truth was she was worse than Tom for fleeing, for not even thinking of defending that boy. When the occasion arose, she disappointed the name of Godric Gryffindor. She had been so scared, terrified even, the boy’s pain cursing through her own veins…no. There was no excuse.

‘I am horrible…’ Her eyes glazed over as she let herself slide onto the cold stone.

‘I yelled at Tom for ordering the attack on Arthur, but when I could have made a difference, I just ran to save my own skin. Is this who I am? A hypocrite?’

She looked at the windowsill where the cage was, still empty, still without Emryk. Perhaps he was better off without her, she thought as she made an inhuman effort and picked herself up from the floor, intent on being at least a hypocrite with good hygiene.

After brushing her teeth and hair and changing into a set of clean, warm clothes, she left her room, hoping she’ll get to have a quiet breakfast while everybody was probably still asleep. Even as she passed through the dark passageway, her brain was searching for a way of redeeming herself. But a nasty voice laughed contemptuously at her, poking her brain with a sarcastic: _What are you going to do? Leave a get better card and some flowers by his sick bed in the Hospital Wing? Or perhaps you’ll just go there while he’s being wasted away in a coma to say: sorry I was a coward and couldn’t help you?_

By the time she got past the Fat Lady’s painting, Maud’s heart was a knot of self-loathing, fear and worry. She didn’t even see Tom who was standing against the wall, waiting for her. He made two steps in her direction and that’s when she turned her head, paralyzed for a second as she half-expected someone to launch themselves at her.

‘W-what?’ she whispered, automatically stepping backwards, her heart pounding cruelly against her ribs.

‘We have to talk about last night…’ he started, his expression unreadable.

‘What happened to the Hufflepuff boy?’ she stepped closer, every pore emanating a sense of urgency, her eyes widened in anticipated dread.

‘What?’ spat Tom caught off-guard by her question.

‘What happened to him? Is he alright? Tell me!!’

Tom’s eyes were slowly filling with anger and confusion.

‘Why do you care?’

‘Just tell me already!’

‘He’s fine. He doesn’t remember a thing. Alphard took care of him.’

He parted with that information grudgingly, obviously annoyed by the fact that the conversation had already gone in another direction than the one predicted or desired by him.

‘Fine? So…he’s not in a coma or in pain or…mutilated?’

Tom laughed, but the sound was not a pleasant one. It was the sound of clinging icicles, cold, distant and unnatural.

‘Do you really think I’m that much of a beast?’

‘Well…I don’t know what to think, really. Not anymore. Essentially? Yes.’ She replied innocently.

Tom’s eyebrows shot upwards in disbelief, his teeth clenched to give him the illusion of self-control.

‘I saw you last night, Tom…you were cruel, vicious, scary.’

He took one step toward her, but she backed away, her panicked eyes searching his face for any hidden intentions.

‘Why are you avoiding me?’

‘I’m not. I’m here, aren’t I?’

But she was still with one foot in the air, itching to take one step farther away from him. A precaution, she told herself.

‘That’s not what I meant and you know it. Don’t play dumb, it does not become you.’

‘Well what do you want from me?’ she snapped, causing a few portraits to look at her in annoyance from behind their nightcaps. Outside, the sun was still struggling to lift itself up. Maud doubted there were many people up so early in the morning. ‘I’m not the one setting up a cult in the castle’s backyard, which so happens to be a garden full of beasts and pretty much everything else one might encounter in a nightmare! What am I supposed to do now? Jump in your arms because torturing is the newest thing women swoon over nowadays?’

‘Maud, calm down,’ though he said it through gritted teeth, almost as if it were an advice meant only for his ears. He looked around to make sure there was no one around to hear her and then he stepped closer.

‘Will he be alright?’

‘Who?’ Tom was exasperated. How many other people did she care for?

‘The Hufflepuff! Is he going to be alright? Or are you planning on finishing the job?’

Desperation was written all across her face and her knuckles were white with tension. He took yet another step, his shadow now covering her entirely.

‘I already said he’s fine. What do you want more?’ She could feel his vocal cords vibrate under the pressure of his constantly-below-the-surface anger.

‘I want to understand you. I want to make up for my cowardice last night. I want to make sure that that boy will not be crippled for life or even worse because I was too afraid of YOU to step in and help him.’

‘You don’t seem so afraid now.’

‘I am. But any fear in me is being choked out by self-loathing at this moment. Why are you here?’

Her hands were fidgeting with her robes as she forced herself to look Tom in the eye. She could see the lack of sleep in the shadows underneath his eyes, his entire attitude was that of a man too tired to snap, curse, maim or kill just then.

‘I’m here because I didn’t want you to hide away from me, because of last night. I’m here because I knew you would freak out. I’m here, little lion, to remind you that _I am here._ ’

He stretched his arm to cup her cheek but she flinched, her head inching away from him and he dropped his hand, his eyes ablaze.

‘You think I’d hurt you?’

She could see he was nearing his limit, but there was still doubt in her. Nonetheless, she couldn’t bear the look on his face and she shook her head in response.

‘Prove it.’

The sun had already started its tiresome ascend and its yellow, warm light was slowly making its way down the corridor, through the window at the end. It touched gingerly Tom’s jet black hair, colouring his otherwise pale face with warmth. Maud gave him a weak, sad smile and stepped closer, resting her hand on his cheek, the way she had done weeks ago in his room, when he had flinched at her touch. Now there was no flinching, no awkward spasm in his muscles, but rather the opposite, for he relaxed immediately, sighing with relief as though he had not been sure she would take up the challenge.

‘It’s not fair,’ she whispered. ‘You’re making that face, tempting me when you should be the one trying to prove things to me. Not the other way around…’

He closed his eyes, the perfect image of deceitful innocence. Maud could no longer bear it, tearing at her heart.

‘I can’t…’ she whispered, letting her hand drop and turning quickly toward the stairs.

‘What do you mean you can’t?’ growled Tom chasing after her.

She had almost reached the base of the stairs when she turned around, her face pained beyond anything he had ever seen. Her eyes were glassy and her skin pale white, almost paler than his. She seemed to be screaming beneath the surface, imploring him to leave her, yet at the same time fear had her trapped inside. Tom doubted someone could look more beautiful than she was right then, while her soul was being ripped apart. He felt a chill run through his body, making every hair on his skin stand up and he stopped, unable to take one more step to reach her. He watched her as she climbed down the rest of the stairs and lost herself behind statues and armours. Only then could he move his body once more.

**.  .   .**

‘Really, girl, one cannot fathom the reason for which you come here so often. ‘Tis a deserted place and I prefer it thusly, could you, perhaps, migrate to more distant and earthly-bound planes? One cannot create rhymes with your presence stabbing the already aching mind.’

Maud gasped and turned around from the shimmering surface of the lake, glistening and spreading heavy lights in the Boathouse. Percival Pratt, the regular inhabitant of a painting in the Grand Staircase, where he sat writing rhymes under a pale, sickly moon, was gazing disappointed at her. Once again, his magnificent and tormented person was finding itself in the presence of an annoying girl destroying the lonely quality of his sanctuary.

‘Then why don’t you go back to your painting upstairs,’ she was not in the mood to be reprimanded for simply existing.

‘And why should I run away, petite girl? ‘Tis not I who dreads the world.’

He dusted off his perfect red robes, a look of self-satisfaction on his face. His blue eyes were blazing with the passion only a dead poet can muster as he turned his attention back to Maud, who had come to her fortress of solitude for a moment of peace and quiet. There is only so much one can think about when Arthur is jumping around demanding he be entertained and Tom is staring from somewhere, not far, piercing every follicle in her body. 

‘I don’t dread the world…’

She paused for a moment, suddenly unsure. ‘…and I am not little,’ she added, but her voice lacked the conviction necessary to impress the poet.

‘Said the emotionless statue of Hogwarts. Even the dead talk more boldly, dear.’

‘Perhaps it is because they are dead that their tongues are so loose. There’s not much they can fear…’

Maud looked miserably at the glistening water, rocking gently from side to side, escaping from the lake’s prison one drop at a time. The walls seemed to sparkle and shiver at the same time, but the sun was barely visible through the windows, already sinking behind clouds and trees.

‘That is, petite girl, because they have outgrown their fears. Mostly. But look at you, a philosopher lion. That is new. I thought ravens to be the thinkers and lions the roaring rebels and fighters. Where’s the heart-eating courage, lion?’

He edged closer, as if he wanted to get out of the painting, his brown hair itching to be parted from the canvas. He seemed eager to examine this strange creature more closely and his eyes were trembling with excitement at Maud.

‘I…,’ she searched for an excuse, but came up with nothing. ‘I know. I lost it somewhere, sometime, I don’t know when or where. Maybe I’ve never had it.’

The portrait laughed and paint wrinkled at the corner of his eyes and mouth.

‘Doubt not the Sorting Hat, for that which it knows belongs to it and no one else. And the Sorting Hat is never wrong in its beliefs, dear.’

Maud sighed, not really believing in anything at that moment other than her lack of courage and strength.

‘I’m sorry to keep you from your writing, sir. I’ll be going now.’

She bowed her head in defeat against the world and turned slowly toward the stairs.

‘Wait. There is a way, should you want to find that which you seek…’

Maud looked over her shoulder in surprise, the poet’s voice lingering like the fluttering of wings or paper in the air.

‘Dive in. Run into the flames, face your fears, take on a beast and conquer death. That professor…he and I share the same name, amongst other curiosities. Percival, Wulfric…Dumbledore—yes, that’s the name. He knows it all.’

‘But…how do I face my fears?’

The portrait laughed. It was a cruel, pained and eerie laughter, sending chills through Maud’s spine and through thick stone walls.

‘Tis not evident? Through love. It makes beasts of us all, and angels and what not else. Love is the most vicious of all beasts. One would take on death itself for it, rise above it or succumb. Who knows. People do the strangest of things…’

He looked thoughtful, his gaze drifting past Maud, into a different time, slipping away from that era. Without another word, the poet sank back into the painting’s dark background, his eyes lost in a whirlpool of memories.

Maud climbed the stairs with the bitter aura of a lost soul. Even the ghosts seemed to have more purpose and conviction than she possessed right then. Everything was slowly eating her away and her heart was screaming names at her for clinging to all those emotions. She really wanted to let go of it all, but even when she didn’t think about everything that had happened in that past month, there was still something inside, suffocating her, pushing her down.

She reprimanded herself with all the spite and might she could still find inside her and she dropped her bag on the desk she usually occupied in Transfiguration. There were only a few Hufflepuffs there, but Maud could hear Dumbledore rummaging through the back room, searching for something with determination.

The chair next to her screeched as someone pulled it over, sitting down quietly. Maud’s blood froze for a moment, as if in anticipation. She could smell Tom’s distinct perfume, however, her head remained propped against her hands, her eyes never parting with Dumbledore’s desk. It was better when she could not see his face. Less…intimidating. In front of her there were small paper birds flying around joyously. It was the only thing that helped her those days, putting all her concentration into magic, willing herself at least into a more skilful person, if not a more courageous one.

Tom looked at her with tired exasperation. Still she avoided his gaze. Still she indulged herself in that annoyingly wretched state, making him want to shake her back to her normal self. Whenever he was in the same room with her, Maud would focus on a spell or a magical object, practicing magic rather than sparing him at least one glance. Even now, when he sat down next to her, she did not even turn for a moment to look at him, her eyes painfully fixed on the paper birds. He wanted to turn them into ashes and he would have too, had it not been for one of them, the smallest, flying over to him and landing gracefully on his hand. He looked at Maud and could see she had tensed up, waiting for his reaction. Was he going to crush it? Was that a test?

‘I don’t speak bird, Maud. If you want to talk to me, do so yourself, don’t send paper birds just because you’re too scared,’ his voice was dripping with spite, but he did nothing to the bird.

Maud’s back muscles froze for a moment before anger swished over them. She bit her lower lip, her mind screaming at Tom that she was not scared of him. And to prove it to herself more than anyone else she turned her head, the birds she had been gazing over dropping down like paper bullets.

‘I don’t have anything to say to you,’ she replied defiantly, watching the small bird flipping her small wings in Tom’s palm. She pecked his skin gingerly while Tom’s eyes stared Maud down.

‘I’ll say this just once, Maud. Don’t push it.’

He stood up, the bird still cupped inside his palm, and moved to a different seat, far away from Maud who was left there alone and surprised at his reaction. For some reason, she had never thought Tom would get tired of waiting for her to make up her mind. She didn’t even consider the possibility of him walking away, in her mind, she was the one running away and having tantrums.

‘Today we will be starting on a new, exponentially more difficult, spell,’ beamed Dumbledore from behind his desk, waking Maud up from her reverie to find that the classroom had been filled up and she had missed Dumbledore’s speech.

At the end of the lesson, Maud was feeling at least an inch better for she had done quite well in Transfiguration. She was about to leave the classroom, a bitter smile curling up her lips, when Dumbledore called out her name.

‘Maud, could you stay just a couple of more minutes?’ His voice was gentle, if not a little odd.

‘Yes, professor?’ she turned around and followed him up the small flight of stairs, into his study slash storage room for his weird instruments. She took a seat in front of his desk, frowning at his back as he searched for some biscuits and a freshly brewed pot of tea. Was that some kind of magical teapot that kept the tea fresh and hot?

Dumbledore handed her a cup of nice smelling tea with a gentle smile. It was unlike anything she had seen on his face. His eyes were shimmering behind his half-moon spectacles, his pale skin was crinkled at the corners, but there was a tightness to his mouth which almost passed her attention as it was partly obscured by his beard. And there was so much kindness and general understanding being emanated from him. It baffled her how someone could be so genuine, even though behind the twinkle in eyes, behind the merry aura he maintained about himself at that moment, Maud felt more than she saw that bitter pinch of worry and certainty. He seemed to feel sorry for her…

She stared at her own fingers intertwined on the cup, all the while feeling Dumbledore’s piercing eyes on her.

‘Sir…What is…love?’ Maud turned a timid shade of red, as though the word did not sit naturally on her tongue. When she finally managed a mediocre control over her own embarrassment, she looked up to find Dumbledore smiling nostalgically at her, a shadow threatening the corners of his eyes.

‘Love, Maud, is the most powerful form of magic there is. More powerful than the darkest, most savage curse, more powerful than our minds can even fathom.’

He smiled at her with his eyes twinkling energetically.

‘But…how do you know when it’s love?’

Dumbledore’s smile turned sour and the past shadowed his spectacles for only a brief moment.

‘I suppose one can never know for certain. Then again, it depends on the kind of love, for one should always know it, if what they are feeling is true. Love is such a curious business, because it can take all kinds of shapes and forms, but it goes even beyond that. It can change us, make us into better people or, on the contrary, break us, bring us down to monsters. There is always a choice, even though that choice is often made by others when it comes to love. However, I prefer to think of it as a force for good, a chance to become better. Nevertheless, regardless of my preferences, it can create monsters as often as it elevates us, that is true in a way—or at least, that is what a poet friend of mine likes to affirm.’

Maud watched Dumbledore attentively. So Percival Pratt had spoken the truth.

‘But…isn’t it better not to love, then? If it can bring us down just as easily as it can save us?’

She could feel the fight rise inside her, tearing at her shallow calmness, bringing the conflict from the pits of her soul up.

‘Many before you have asked the same question, my dear Maud, and the honest answer would be that I do not know. However, I often find myself quite dishonest in my opinions, which is why I believe love…true, selfless love, to be incapable of creating the monsters I mentioned before. I suspect it is love’s absence that can tear us apart. When coming from the heart, no matter how dark it may be, it can touch even the foulest of people. Those who run away from love are fools.’

Even though his words should have been insurance, Maud could not help herself but feel a desperate pang make its way into her heart. Love might be powerful and good as Dumbledore believes it to be, but there was still that chance that it could go wrong, it could turn the other way and destroy everything. It could still break.

‘Is there something the matter?’

His piercing blue eyes were still on here, looking into the darkest corners of her soul.

‘I’m lost professor,’ the words came out of her mouth before she could think twice.

‘I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who I am or what I’m feeling. I’m trapped inside a world I have yet to know, let alone understand. I just…’

Her eyes were glassy, tears threatening the base of her eyelashes.

Dumbledore sighed, sorrow flashing for mere seconds on his features before disappearing completely, almost as if it had never existed. He put down his cup and clasped his hands together, his long fingers intertwined on the desk.

‘I know it is difficult to not know your own past, but it is also a blessing. Everybody has a choice when it comes to the kind of person they want to be, and once that choice is made, it can hardly be altered. Because the steps we take, the turns we make stay with us forever and haunt us. You now have a unique opportunity, Maud. You can be whomever you choose, your slate is clean. Be who you want to be, not who think you ought to have been.’

‘But what if who I want to be isn’t necessarily the right kind of person? What if the choices I make aren’t the right ones? How do I know what is right and wrong when what I feel is against what…supposedly is right?’

Dumbledore looked at her over his half-moon spectacles as an inkling of what Maud was feeling washed over him.

‘In matter of right or wrong, my dear, I find a heart to be the most sincere of compasses. It will never point to the true north or south, but it will always point you in the direction you must follow. And it is one of Gryffindor’s  trademarks who was known to leap with his heart before his mind could catch up and reason with him.’

His smile faded slowly, but the warmth was still there. It was clear that he had wanted to start an entirely different conversation, but now he had abandoned the idea.

‘Just remember, a mind is more easily corrupted, but a heart breaks twice as fast.’

There was a strange note in Dumbledore’s voice as he said it, giving Maud a haunting sense of foreboding.

‘Now, off you go. You don’t want to miss lunch now, do you? I heard there will be an excellent fruit tart for desert today.’

He stood up, a mischievous smile on his face as evident as the morning soon, contrasting with the tone of their conversation. Maud rose up from her seat, still rummaging over his words, still feeling as though he had meant to tell her something rather important and upon seeing her distress had changed his mind.

‘Professor?’ she said stopping at the top of the stairs.

‘Yes, Maud?’

‘Thank you,’ she gave him a small smile, timid, beaten out of her by his words, but kind in the only way she knew and sincere. And that was enough for Dumbledore whose eyes darkened ever so slightly with untraceable sadness.

The Great Hall was buzzing as ever with the clinging of forks and knives, and the constant chatter rising up toward the enchanted ceiling which bore the heavy marks of a dying October.

Maud did not see Arthur or Charlie so she sat down next to Tilda who was immersed in that day’s Daily Prophet while she battled with a potato which refused to enter her mouth. She therefore ate slowly and quietly, letting the noise to wash over her body and mind, settling on the burning thoughts born from the conversation with Dumbledore. Even though there was still doubt and fear inside her, Maud now knew there was a path she could follow should she choose so.  She even turned around her head a few times to glance at Tom who seemed in a dark mood. For a few seconds she thought seriously about getting up and going to him to cheer him up, but then she slapped herself back to reality and realized he deserved to look miserably, at least for a while longer. Yes, she wanted to be by his side and make him smile, however, it served him better to experience the consequences of his actions and have a taste of a not so friendly treatment, at least emotionally if not physically.

Therefore, when she finished eating, Maud left the Great Hall without glancing back at him, intent on finding Arthur and Charlie instead. From what Tilda had mumbled over her baked potato, they were somewhere on the grounds, testing some kind of instrument Charlie had received from his sisters. The girl had shrugged her shoulders at Maud, as if to say: who knows what they’re blowing up out there, I really don’t care, before turning to her paper and her potato which had yet to yield to her mouth.

Outside was cold and the wind sliced through any exposed skin, forcing Maud to wrap her robes around herself tightly. The sun was barely visible, a yellowish grey hidden by trees and clouds, struggling to light the frozen air and failing. Winter was blowing from afar but it gained ground with every swish of leaves and every inch of partly frozen dirt.

She followed the path down toward the river, figuring it was as good a place to start as any. It was also much closer than the Quidditch pitch and she was hoping they would be there rather than any other place because the wind was a savage creature, making her want to flee back inside and abandon her rather pointless idea of finding the two boys.

The lake was now a few feet away from here and small waves rippled across its smooth, steely surface. She stopped there, debating whether or not to continue her search when an odd sound crept up on her, making her freeze. It was a terrible string of splashes accompanied by a muffled voice shouting against the wind and the lake. She turned around, looking for the source, her eyes widening with every step. Finally, she saw it. Or rather he, for there was a small boy fighting against the waves, his head sinking and emerging from the water rapidly.

‘Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelp! Heeeeee—jnlfv,’ his voice was barely audible over the wild wind. Maud looked around desperately, trying to find someone else, but there was no one. The boy was a several feet away from the shore and the lake was known for its deep waters.

‘Hang on!’ she cried, her body and mind tormented against running to find help and diving into the water to take matters into her own hands. Did she know how to swim? Wouldn’t it be better to get a professor instead?

The boy’s head was now fighting for air, his body had sunk a few inches more and he was clearly losing his strength with every icy wave that hit him. There was no time. She had to make a choice.

‘Pleeaaaaaaaaaase,’ the boy’s voice was now just a whisper, desperately floating in the air.

Her heart screaming with adrenaline, panic, and the fearful determination of someone lacking the courage, Maud took off her cloak as quickly as humanly possible when trembling like a twig, keeping at the same time her wand in her hand. She ran into the water, willing herself into knowing how to swim. She suspected she didn’t, but reaching that boy and saving him was more important than that and it kept her afloat even when her feet could no longer find the bottom.

‘I’m coming! Hold on, I’m coming, little boy,’ she screamed over the deafening wails of the wind and the splashes of waves hitting her in the face. The water was colder than she had imagined it would be and it took her breath away with every step, freezing her blood and slowing her terrified heart. Her clothes were now soaked and they weighed more than her entire body, pulling her down. Nevertheless, she pressed on, ignoring everything but the black silhouette of the struggling boy. She was now close enough to hear his sobs.

‘I’m here, I’m here.’

She hugged him tightly and pushed him up, his face was almost entirely underwater. He kicked her, using her to get to the surface and Maud did her best to help him, even though he sank her. Her body was shrouded by the liquid ice and the silence that reeked of death and nothingness, still, she kept her hands up, making sure the boy could fill his lungs. When her chest began to hurt and the small gasps of air that remained in her started to weight painfully, Maud fought to rise to the surface.

The wind send knives through her skin and the sound of life collapsed in her ears, everything blended into one distorted sob. Everything was crying—the lake, the boy, the wind, the air, the sky.

‘Hold on to me,’ she said gasping for air at the same time, desperate to get out of the lake. The water was unbearably cold, it crawled underneath her skin, into her lungs, cursing every drop of blood that ran through her veins, draining every bit of energy and will she had.

‘Help meeeeee,’ the boy screamed, his hands digging painfully into her back as he clung to her.

She kicked her legs, fighting off the lake and the waves, not sure how one was supposed to advance against the currents, toward the mesmerizing ground twenty feet away. From where they were drowning, it seemed a mile.

‘I will save you,’ yelled Maud, encouraging herself as much as the child, a mad determination written across her face. She advanced slowly, every kick of her legs being slowed down by the current pulling at them, calling them into the deep. Her one free hand was clawing at the liquid in aid of her feet. Still, it was not enough and they were slowly sinking. She grabbed her wand and pointed it in the opposite direction, imagining a spring propelling them forward. She put all the passion she was capable of, all the emotion she had, every though that ever crossed her mind, everything into that one nameless spell. There was tearing sound and the next moment Maud realized they were being thrown forward, ten feet across the water. She repeated the wand movement and they were in a pool of water, five feet away from the frozen mud that covered the ground.

Maud pushed the boy forward and he crawled out of the lake, tears still streaming down his face. He was now howling with fear. She could see moving black spots across the lawn before she was dragged back into the water, a sickly green tentacle wrapped around her ankle. The Grindylow gave out a savage cry, high pitched and cruel as he dragged her deep into the waters.

The blue engulfed her once more and she fought against the beast’s tentacle, causing more of the disgusting legs to wrap around her ankle. She pointed her wand at the creature and mustered all her anger into one, blinding red lightning, sending  it on the bottom of the lake. The water shook with the force of the spell and she fought whole-heartedly to reach the surface, not allowing herself, not even for a moment, to think about the horrible things she must have awakened. She didn’t think of the pain in her lungs either, nor of the fact that with every kick she seemed to stay still, not advancing one bit.

She pushed her wand against the water once more, propelling herself onto the surface once more. Again, she waved the wand, sending herself forward, and then once more.

The ground was hard and rocks were cutting through her skin, but it was still and dry and it smelled like heaven to Maud. She could hear voices clashing around her head. She could hear the boy’s voice now calm and emotionless. She could hear yells and footsteps approaching her and that made her tremble on her hands and knees.

A blanket was dropped on her and she hugged it around her, silently grateful for it. She was trembling uncontrollably and it seemed there was not one drop of blood left in her body that was still warm. Wet hair was sticking to her face in thick dark locks.

‘Are you utterly unconscious, you bloody fool?’ the voice cute deeper than any wave or gust of wind. It was Tom.

Maud looked up at him, grinning like an idiot despite her shivering. He had knelt beside her and was gripping the blanked around her, keeping it together. She could see past him a few students watching from afar, professor Merrythought holding them away. There was also Madam Creavey tending to the boy Maud had saved and, in the distance, a dark figure was approaching as well.

‘Are you even listening to me?’ whispered Tom through gritted teeth, his blazing eyes locked on her.

‘Ye—ye—ssss…’ The grin was still there.

‘Why are you grinning like the bloody fool you are?’

He was more than angry. He was royally pissed. In fact, Maud suspected he would have blown into a fit of rage had there not been other people to witness it.

‘Be—bec—becauzzz… I saved him,’ she replied proud, innocent, genuine, joy lighting up her face. There was no more fear there, not even one shadow. There was only happiness and tears of joy and hypothermia.

‘You…you…argh!’

Tom looked at her frustrated. He wanted to yell at her until her ears would start bleeding, but her childish happiness stopped him. She was the happiest he had ever seen her and the words to destroy that rare feeling in her refused to come out of his mouth. Instead, he angrily made sure she was covered by the blanket and stared at Madam Creavey’s back with murderous annoyance as she tended to that wretched boy.

‘St—stop wo—worr—worrying. I—I’m fi—fine,’ she said between shivers and coughs. She really wasn’t, physically at least, and Tom knew that, which is why he stood up and walked over to Madam Creavey.

‘I know, mister Riddle, but so is this poor young boy. I don’t have four hands and I am trying to get everything done as quickly as possible! If you want to help her, get her out of this ridiculous wind and take her to the Hospital Wing. I’ll get there as soon as possible.’

She dismissed him with her hand and returned to applying green ointment onto the boy’s throat. Tom repressed the urge to hex the damn woman and walked back to Maud, who was now being inspected by Dumbledore.

‘Brilliant,’ muttered Tom as every muscle in his body tensed up.

‘I think, Tom, we should get Maud inside as soon as possible. She’s building up a fever.’

Dumbledore withdrawn his hand from Maud’s burning forehead, his eyes darting gravely from Tom to the lake and, finally, to where Madam Creavey was.

‘I know, professor, I have just talked to Madam Creavey,’ he replied, his emotions tucked away safely.

‘Good…’

He turned around, his eyes gazing pensively at the lake, frowning.

‘Well, off you go. I believe you can manage by yourself to get her safely to the Hospital Wing. I’ll be there shortly.’ And with that, he walked toward the lake, his entire body tensed with determination. But Tom did not wait to see what the old man was planning, he picked Maud up, ignoring her protests, and started off in the castle’s direction.

‘See—r—r—riously, T—Tom, I—I c—can w—walk with—out yo—your he—help.’

However, as much as she wanted to, her body was shivering too uncontrollably to allow her any gesture of protest and her scowling remained rather footless.

‘Stop it already!’ he commanded, tightening his grip on her as his anger seeped out. Maud widened her eyes at him, seeing him properly for the first time that day and she tried her very best to stop her shaking. Tom was pale white and there were dark shadows underneath his raging black eyes. For a moment even, she though she saw a trace of fear on his face, a ghost of something he had experienced not long ago. He looked far from his normal, composed self and the anger he usually contained locked deep within was starting to crawl out into the light.

‘What’s… the… matter,’ whispered Maud, not understanding that mixture of emotions on his face and struggling, at the same time, to not shake and shiver so much. They were now climbing a flight of stairs lit by powerful torches, but their warmth failed to penetrate her frozen skin.

He ignored her, his jawline a hard edge of tension. To Maud, it seemed he was trying his best to contain his emotions inside, even though so many had already escaped, flooding over his face. She struggled to free one hand from the blanket’s folds, pressing it against his cheek. It was cold as ice and trembled ever so slightly, despite her efforts to control her muscles. Still, Tom did not flinch at the difference of temperature, nor did he react in any other way to acknowledge her gesture. Maud sighed and dropped her hand, annoyance rising up inside her alongside her fever.

She muttered something under her breath, something which Tom suspected sounded quite a lot like _“complete arse”_ and would have made him lash out and completely loose it with her, had it not been for her coughing and barely contained shivering, as well as that stupidly innocent gesture she made of leaning her head against his chest.  

And no matter how much he wanted to shout all his frustration at her and reprimand her for her foolish actions, there was no way he could do that when, truth be told, he was actually relieved to have her alive, because, for an excruciating moment, the ground had shifted underneath his feet while he watched her lying motionless on the cold sand.

‘We’re here,’ he whispered above her head, not knowing if she was asleep or not.

‘Oh…’ she replied, grabbing his robes as he let her down easily, anticipating the dizziness. She looked around, uncertain of what she should do and having a bad taste in her mouth. She truly hated the Hospital Wing.

‘Do…I…reall..really ha—have t—to stay h—here?’

She looked up hopefully, even though she already knew his answer, but he met her gaze with a steely no—nonsense look, taking off the blanket and tossing it on the floor.

‘You should change.’

‘And put on what…instead. B—bed co-covers?’ She tried to laugh at her own joke but a coughing fit wrapped itself around her throat, killing that idea.

‘Into these,’ replied an exasperated Tom, annoyed and worried at the same time, while he pointed at the folded pyjamas on the nearest bed. 

‘What are you doing?’

He was now standing ten feet away, facing away, giving her a view of his back.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

‘I m—mean you could at l-least get out w—while I c-change.’

Tom smirked, raising his eyebrows incredulously. ‘Not one chance. Who knows what other stunt you’ll pull in the few minutes I’m gone.  I’ll stay right here. Go on and change, I won’t peek.’

Maud watched him turn his head again. She would have kept on arguing, possibly even push him out herself, but her bones were hurting and the shivering had rendered her muscles a pile of useless meat, so she gave up and changed as quickly as her trembling limbs would allow her, discarding of her soggy clothes and leaving them on the floor. She was now barefooted, swimming in pyjamas that were clearly too big for her. At least they were relatively warm and comfortable.

‘R—ready…’she whispered, fighting with the shirt’s sleeves. Tom turned to her, seemingly bored, even though his eyes inspected every inch of her as though she were a small, petulant child who had most probably messed up even the simple task of changing her clothes. He scowled at her bare feet and closed the distance with two, long strides, sweeping her off her feet and planting her onto the bed.

‘Are you honestly that reckless? Standing there barefooted like an annoying child begging to catch a serious cold?’

He tucked her in, pushing her with more force than was necessary when she tried to protest and get out.

‘Why are you being so stubborn?’ he snapped, his skin glowing white against his jet black hair and his burning eyes. There was a threatening rumble behind his voice.

‘I’m not! Y—you’re the o—one acting s—so strange!’ She battled against his arms which tried to wrap her in the blanket and trap her there.

‘Tom, stop it!’

His arms dropped by his side and he sat down on her bed heavily, hiding his face in his hands. Through his long, thin fingers, Maud could see a vein pulsating dangerously against his temple. She propped herself on her knees and inched closer, wrapping her rather small hand on his forearm, forcing him to reveal his face. There were so many wild emotions shifting on his features, leaving marks or covering old shadows, battling inside and out. Even then she could see how hard he fought to keep the words he itched to yell at her contained inside. That was so unlike him.

‘What?’ he spat, watching her intensely.

She smiled at him weakly and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly, wanting to comfort him as much as she was searching for an ounce of warmth to take away that painful shivering. She did not know what else to do, other than give up completely to her heart’s desire. There was no more guilt haunting her, no more pain, indecision or fear, because she had saved that little boy. She had been willing to lay down her last breath for that unknown child, if that had meant she could repay her previous cowardice. And by saving him, she hoped the universe would allow her that one act of selfishness—Tom. Perhaps, because she had saved that child, it would be alright for her to care about him the way she did, regardless of his flaws, regardless of his viciousness and cruelty, regardless of the darkness that she knew waited patiently inside him. It didn’t matter. She had done the right thing and maybe now she could follow that warm feeling inside her that flowed from within whenever she saw him.

Maud wanted to save Tom and maybe, just maybe, by doing so she would save herself as well along the way.

‘Tom…,’ she whispered in his ear, hugging him even more tightly as she poured all the warmth and everything she had ever felt for him in that one word—that one, self-explanatory word that was more powerful for her than any other.

Hearing his own name floating off her lips with such genuine feeling, Tom couldn’t help but wrap his arms around her waist, burying his face into her neck, surrendering to that one moment.

‘Never…in your life…dare put yourself at risk again. Do you understand me? Never!’

He tightened his grip even more, desperate she could slip away at any moment and leave him for good.

‘Is that…why you w—were upset?’ she inched away with difficulty, enough to see his face.

‘Upset?’

He pulled her back toward him, crushing her lips on his, locking his arms around her tighter than ever, pressing himself on her, forcing every bit of emotion she had felt that day onto her. Tom could sense her trembling, icy lips parting ever so slightly, her already bruised lungs aching for air, and he seized that chance, invading her mouth, her breath, her blood, everything. His fingers dug into her skin and in turn her arms encircled his neck tighter still. With every assault from his behalf, she responded in kind, each desperate to prove their feelings.

‘Does that seem upset to you?’ he said in a low voice, a menacing tone curling around his words as he grinned hungrily at her.

That had been far from upset. That had been a war of emotions, one which had been won by barely containable rage and desire, possessiveness and desperation and Maud was still fighting for air.

He let go of her gently, enrapt as he watched her, a smug smile playing on his lips. Finally, she rolled her eyes at him, not at all impressed by his smugness, but amused nonetheless. She coughed painfully a few times, sensing her lungs cracking with pain. Tom frowned, anger flashing across his face as he mentally cursed Madam Creavey for moving so slowly.

She leaned against him, closing her eyes to try and force the pain back.

‘I-I think the a—adrenaline has run o—out…I am s—so t—tired.’

Her eyes refused to open any more as her muscles shut down.

‘Maud…’

Tom’s voice was nearer than she had expected. She felt his arms push her gently and soft pillows were crushed against her curiously burning skin, in spite of her shivering. He covered her with a fluffy blanket, lowering his head until his nose could touch her forehead. He hovered there, hesitating, but he did not kiss her. He was about to retreat when Maud’s fingers caught his robes as she made one last attempt to keep him there, by her side, fighting off the urge to slip into the dark.

He smiled smugly, but he could feel her pain running through her blood and that left a bitter taste in his mouth. She seemed so vulnerable, so breakable…

‘Stay,’ she whispered, her voice a ginger ripple in the air, barely touching Tom’s eardrums. Before she could hear his reply, however, sleep washed over her, taking her away from him, drowning her in a pool of flickering images and dark winds of forgotten memories.

Sighing, Tom conjured a chair next to her bed and sat down gracefully, all the while his eyes being set on her pale face which was already trembling with the ghosts of nightmares.

 


	16. The Snake

 

 

Emotions define us. From love, to hate, to lust and fear, we are that which we feel. It is not something which can be controlled, mastered or eliminated, for with every breath taken, our heart, soul, and body abides by these incorruptible laws that shape us into what we are. But there are some, not many, who were born out of this natural reach of causes and effects.

Tom Riddle did not care much for love. For him, emotions were either fuel for something greater, as long as they were harnessed by an agile mind, or mere impediments meant to be shaken off by the strong. What he felt was only what he allowed himself to feel; only what he thought would be of use to his great purpose, or at least would not interfere with it. Love for him was never in the picture he had painted for himself to encompass the world he would dominate one day. He never considered it the powerful magic Dumbledore would always proclaim to see in that petty emotion. He did not want it, crave nor care for it. It had always been an instrument of manipulation for him, to break apart the weak and the unimportant. Needless to say, his entire approach towards emotions was sabotaged the moment Maud had crossed his path. And for his untrained heart, that was a crucial moment, a stand-still point in his life that would give birth to the many flickering lights in his future.

Even so, Tom refused to acknowledge love as a force to be reckoned with and preferred to delude himself into thinking that what he felt for Maud was just a powerful craving. And desire was not something to fear therefore he leapt forward and indulged himself without hesitation. He was powerful, feared, on the rise to greatness, in his mind he was entitled to anything or anyone he desired. In reality, that was as much his mind’s decision as it was his heart’s mechanism of tricking the naïve into submitting to his feelings most foolishly. Tom didn’t really think all that much about what he felt for Maud, not beyond the point where he concluded she was not Dumbledore’s spy. Truth be told, he often found himself engulfed in some kind of situation between the two of them which led to him burning with rage, thus not leaving him enough time to process everything that was happening with them.

‘Ah, still here, Tom?’

There was the hint of a chuckle behind Dumbledore’s words as he walked toward Maud’s bed with Madam Creavey at his heels. By the time the two of them arrived there, she had already slipped into a deep, heavy sleep as her temperature had risen alarmingly and he had remained by her side, torturing Madam Creavey in his mind and being, generally, in a foul mood.

‘Of course, professor. I couldn’t leave this poor girl alone in the Hospital Wing while she was in such a state.’

He pushed all his frustration behind his much rehearsed Prefect composure. He was the spitting image of an angel.

‘Yes, thank you very much, mister Riddle,’ replied Madam Creavey, fussing around Maud’s bed with different potions, ointments and other such things.

‘That is very kind of you indeed, Tom, but now, as you can see, Madam Creavey is here to take care of her. You can leave now.’

Dumbledore gave him a most benevolent smile which could have hidden many things.

‘Actually, sir,’ started Tom, his blood pumping annoyingly in his veins. ‘I was thinking it would be best if I stayed with her. We have yet to find out what happened out there and it might be better if someone were to stay with her all night to ensure she will be safe. As Head Boy it is my duty, sir.’

His proficient demeanour was met with Dumbledore’s scepticism who raised his eyebrows at the boy’s little speech. There was an elfish twinkle in the professor’s eyes as he measured Tom.

‘Yes, I suppose you are right, Tom. Dear Madam, I will leave Tom in your service tonight. Please, let me now when our patient has awakened.’

Madam Creavey gave a stern nod as she continued to apply a blue ointment at the base of Maud’s throat. She was too busy to spare them even a word.

‘Well then, I see I am not required here. A good evening to you, both.’

But he remained there for a while longer, gazing at Maud’s frail body shivering even in her sleep, underneath the many layers of thick, fluffy blankets. A shadow darkened his eyes as he turned around and left the room, his long feet making no sound on the cold stone.

Tom followed him with his suspicious eyes, his heart changing its pace for some unknown reason.

‘Well then, mister Riddle, don’t just stand there and stare! Help me if you care so much for your friend here!’

But despite her frantic attitude and nervous, rapid movements, it turned out Tom was not needed all that much. In fact, he was quite useless as the woman had already rubbed every possible ointment onto her skin and was now muttering incantations in a strong, unwavering voice. All he was required to do was to conjure up more blankets and pillows and make the patient as comfortable as possible, which, in fact, was a relief because Tom’s disposition was, as always, oscillating between protecting Maud and pouring every ounce of murderous frustration and anger into breaking her down, cell by cell. Nevertheless, as always, he maintained himself composed and with just the right amount of concern displayed in his movements, so that Madam Creavey would not assume he was merely trying to lurk around for whatever dubious reasons that woman could come up with. He was actually quite concerned and perhaps a bit too enthusiastic to have Madam Creavey heal Maud in a heartbeat so he could go back to being his full self. He knew she would be alright, but he wanted it done quicker.

‘There,’ whispered Madam Creavey with the finality only a satisfied nurse can possess. ‘The fever will be gone by tomorrow morning and so will the pain in her lungs. Until then, however, she’ll have a rough night to endure. And since you’ve been so kind to volunteer, Mister Riddle, you’ll stay here and make sure she won’t succumb to the pain.’

Madam Creavey frowned at Tom, holding out a jar of blue ointment and cold poultices. Tom took them with a nod, his eyes darting for a second to Maud, who was breathing heavily against her blanket. He couldn’t see any pain on her face.

‘If anything happens, I’ll be in the office.’

She turned on her heels and hurried away, vanishing behind the door across the ward. Tom looked around suspiciously. Maud’s bed was the only one occupied which made him wrinkle his nose, doubtful. Where was that child she had gone to such reckless length to save?

Candles flickered in the air, casting light on empty beds. The whole room was enclosed in the eerie silence hospital wings share at night. The only sounds that perturbed the stillness came from Tom who placed the poultices and jar on the nightstand, coming short of making no noise at all, except for that small _cling_ glass containers tend to make when handled.

He sat down next to her bed, the wooden chair pressing uncomfortably against his skin. An annoyed sigh escaped his lips as he settled his eyes on Maud’s head. Her hair was sprayed across the pillows and it seemed to shimmer on the white sheets as it coiled and tangled itself around her face. Tom liked its colour. It was a rich chestnut brown, resembling liquefied roasted nuts and sometimes it even shined the deep colour of mahogany. And it was neither straight nor curly— it was a smooth and constant flow of wavy locks that called to him, inviting him to run his fingers through. Most of the time, however, he refrained. Even then, when Maud was lost in her nightmares, swimming across her feverish state and being deliciously vulnerable, he abstained from lifting his hand to touch her. Had he lost himself, had he abandoned that one last reserve of self-restraint, there would not have been any possible way of going back. It pained him physically to know that there were unworthy, filthy human scums surrounding her daily, perhaps touching her unconsciously when he wanted her. Every day, Tom’s desire grew stronger and stronger and as a consequence, so did his hate for the low lives that took her from under his eyes. Of course, he never admitted that to himself, not even for a second. Everything that concerned Maud was an unfiltered emotion that passed his mind with the speed of a lightning, only to be shoved in the dark recesses of his soul, ignored and yet always felt. Tom’s rationality, although wary of her existence, was stubborn enough to not allow a petty thing such as love affect his thinking process. Therefore, the matter of what he truly felt was passed over to his subconscious without much time wasted on it. Ironically, whenever Maud was near him, Tom’s mind would be over-ruled by his heart— that is to say, whatever was left of it.

The sound of a body entangling itself in sheets and nearly falling off woke Tom from his reverie. Maud’s hair was now dangling over the side, as was most of her, actually. For a few minutes, Tom watched her in amused fascination as she fought with her blankets, half asleep and obviously not strong enough to free herself. She seemed smaller than ever in that sea of coloured white.

Finally, when she was close to falling off her bed completely, he stood up and caught her at the last minute, a small smile playing on his lips. She dug her nails into his back, clinging to him as she struggled to breathe and Tom could hear her small heart launching itself at her ribcage.

‘My…lungs…it hurts.’

He let her down gently to untangle the blankets and sheets from around her legs. There was the trace of a frown on his face as he hurried to get it done. Her legs were so white and fragile looking, for a moment he thought they would snap like twigs from the mere pressure of air.

‘Hurts…,’ she whispered with difficulty one more time, her eyes shut tightly.

He didn’t know what to say to comfort her, to help her. That was not something he had ever done, trying to ease away someone’s pain. Usually, he would be the one to provoke it. So he said nothing and instead opened the blue jar which released a strong scent of evergreen and mint. He dug two fingers in only to retrieve them a few seconds later, dipped in the bluish ointment. It was thick and cold. Maud squirmed under his touch, her eyes still tightly shut. His fingers were icy and unforgiving as he applied the ointment onto her skin, at the base of her neck and under her collarbone. Tom’s hand hesitated and gave an imperceptible shiver above her shirt’s neckline, but did not slide underneath it. He wiped his hand on a poultice and checked Maud’s temperature with the back of his palm. She was still burning, her lips trembling in their attempt to form words.

‘No…’ she muttered, grabbing his hand as he was about to return to his chair. She didn’t even have the necessary strength to keep him there, but she clung to him nonetheless, however feebly, pulling him closer and encircling his arm.

‘Maud,’ growled Tom, ‘I am not your teddy-bear.’ But there was amusement in his voice, even the distant note of a pleased, smug, young man who found himself in a situation he didn’t necessarily dislike. And because of that, he sat down on the edge, letting her hug his arm tighter still.

He listened to her frantic heart as it began to relax, every muscle in her body sighing with relief as the pain ebbed slowly away. Air seemed to hurt her lungs less and her breathing lost its tortured quality. After a few minutes, Maud had fallen asleep, forcing Tom to lie down next to her, his arm still captured in her embrace while half of his body was resting precariously on the bed’s edge. Annoyed, he pushed himself closer to her, into a more comfortable position. At least no one could accuse him of not keeping a close enough eye on her. But now he was too close and he didn’t like that either. So, cursing inward and wishing there were a way of hexing her without actually hexing her, he pulled his arm in one swift movement and jumped off her bed as though he had been burned by it.

Maud’s hand followed him sleepily toward the edge, but dared not cross that boundary, falling short of brushing his back as he got up. Her almost touch sent a merciless shiver down his spine and his muscles tensed up with the denied feelings that had passed his mind unfiltered by his reason. He didn’t sit back on his chair; instead he walked to the opposite bed and stood there, gazing out the window. He stared at the dark, deserted ground, bathing in the castle’s massive shadow. There seemed to be no sound out there, no beasts to crawl out of the Forbidden Forest, no reckless birds to hoot at his window. There was nothing out there. Nothing but the cold and the dark and it felt good, familiar even. However, not even the frozen winds, or the dark, heavy clouds, could comfort him right then. There was something inside him, demanding it be freed. Something which grew in strength with every passing moment. Something which loomed over him with the inevitability of future days yet to be lived, roaming the general region of his heart, tearing at everything he had ever known. And it angered him beyond belief, especially since the quietness of the room he found himself in did nothing to help, nor did Maud’s annoying presence for that matter. Ne needed to vent off that feeling, he needed to maim and kill and conquer his way out of that predicament. Yet again, that was impossible. Not this time, at least, and not with her.

He turned around hesitantly, pondering over the situation he had gotten himself into. Tom had avoided looking at Maud for the past hour, trapped in front of that window. If someone had been there to watch the scene, they would have thought he expected Maud to turn into some kind of atrocious beast, but even then he would have been more relaxed, less conflicted. She was breathing heavily against her pillow, but her eyes were half-open, spacing out and only partially conscious. Her lips were slightly parted as she fought to speak. Curious, Tom returned by her side, lounging in his chair as though it was a throne, and waited for her to manage the word she was fighting so hard to pronounce.

‘…Tom…,’ she whispered finally, making his heart jump for a tiny second in a most shameless manner.

He leaned forward, his head now level with hers. Maud opened her eyes wider, light sparkling in them as they focused on Tom’s face. He could feel her struggling to breathe enough so she could whisper louder.

‘Do you know any stories?’

She looked at him hopefully, a smile forcing its way to her lips.

‘No,’ he answered dryly, seeming almost disappointed by her question.

‘Oh…me neither, I suppose…’ She avoided his gaze, suddenly becoming much more interested in her blanket. Something inside Tom revolted. How could _he_ not know any stories? He wasn’t just anyone. He wasn’t an abandoned little child, whose parents had never bothered to live long enough to read to him bedtime stories and therefore knew not of such things. He was Tom Riddle and he knew much more than anybody else.

‘I am not you,’ he replied fired up as he pulled his chair closer. ‘I know thousands of stories. Stories that will make your skin crawl and your heart shiver and wither away with fear.’

Maud’s face lightened up. ‘Will you tell me one?’ Her eyes were set on his hopefully, begging him to indulge her just that one time. Tom smirked triumphantly, but there was also a hint of warmish smile, almost impossible, yet genuine, despite being laced with his usual smugness.

‘Very well…’

Tom paused for a moment, retrieving the wretched story from the darkest corner of his mind, where it had been discarded long ago. He had read it in his first year at Hogwarts, in _The Tales of Beedle the Bard,_ and had not thought much of it. Now, however, it seemed quite an appropriate story for his annoying little lion. He waved his hand at the ceiling, dimming out the candles and propelling them into semi-darkness. He then proceeded to tell the story, his voice low and seductive, a snake’s mesmerizing hiss calling out from the unknown.

‘There was once a warlock…

_Who was young and skilled, handsome and rich, but saw emotions as a weakness. Therefore, he decided to take measures to prevent himself from ever falling in love. He used the Dark Arts to make himself into the best possible version, attaining that which he though was perfection, delving into the darkest pits knowledge possesses. Some believed, however, that he had become deluded, thinking he was envied by others for his perfect solitude._

_One day, he overhears two of his servants talking about him. While one takes pity on him for his loneliness, the other ridicules him for not having found a wife ye, enraging the warlock who, having received such a heavy blow to his pride, decides to find himself a beautiful, magically talented and wealthy young woman, to be envied by all._

_The next day, fortune smiles upon him as he meets the woman he had envisioned for himself. The woman is both fascinated and repelled by him, but is nonetheless persuaded by the warlock, along with her family, to come and dine at his castle. The young man tries to impress her by using words other men and poets had conjured from their hearts to mesmerize their love, however, she is not fooled and asks him to prove he has a heart. And so the warlock takes the maiden to his dungeons, where he had imprisoned his own beating heart in a crystal casket, to show to her that he was not the beast everyone believed him to be. Only the heart was now dark and covered with black hair, shrivelled by the too long time it had spent away from the warlock’s body. However, the maiden is still not convinced and she asks him to put his heart back inside his chest. The warlock, eager to please her and win her for his own, does exactly what she tells him and pushes his heart back into his chest. Delighted, the maiden runs to him and throws herself into his embrace, but the warlock’s heart was no longer what it once was. Fuelled by the power of the Dark magic used to remove it, it had now been driven to a savage, beastly state. And so the heart compels its owner to take by force a truly human heart. The warlock tears out his maiden’s heart to replace his own. Only his was too strong and did not allow him to use magic. Dreading the idea of being mastered by his own heart, he takes a knife and cuts it out. However, before he could replace it with his maiden’s, he dies, one heart in each hand, and no heart at all in his chest.’_

‘That’s a horrible story…’ Maud whispered, staring horrified at Tom’s face, whose gaze was lost in hers.

After a few silent seconds, he smiled, bitterly yet pleased with himself.

‘Why? It shows perfectly well how one is doomed the moment he allows his heart to rule over him.’

He was deadly serious.

‘No. It shows how running away from the most fundamentally human traits can bring you down. Had the warlock not run away from his emotions, had he not been so afraid of love, he would not have died in such a way. He would not have killed.’

‘His fault was running away from love only, and not from all emotions. He was afraid of love, yet he indulged himself shamelessly in all the other emotions, allowing them to control him. He had no control over his envy, his pride. Even without a heart, even with the powers he had, he was mastered by his emotions.’

‘Are you afraid of love, Tom?’ She rose up from her pillows, propping herself on her hands so she wouldn’t fall back, and was staring into his insanely dark eyes.

‘No,’ he laughed at her. ‘How can _I_ be afraid of such a petty feeling?’

Maud raised her eyebrows at him and, for a moment, Tom thought she would punch him despite her feeble condition.

‘So you wouldn’t run away from it?’

He laughed again, a cruel laugh, made to send shiver down people’s spine and prevent anyone from getting closer.

‘I am not a coward. I have no need to run away from feelings. I am the master of my heart, not the other way around.’ But the last sentence seemed almost a growl, as though he had felt provoked by her apparent doubt in his powers. Maud smiled at him with all the warmth she could muster while still feeling frozen.

‘I just wanted to make sure,’ she paused, struggling for air, ‘...you wouldn’t cut out your heart.’ She placed her hand innocently on his chest, above where his heart was beating slowly, quietly, as though it might fade away at any moment. Tom watched her incredulously, upset and angry at the same time. Why was she so physical? And why didn’t he just tear her hand away? Why wasn’t he all that bothered with her closeness?

‘Why aren’t you afraid?’ he asked with spite, encircling her hand with his and tightening his grip.

‘Because I care more about you.’

Tom’s eyes grew even darker. Although her words brought the corners of his mouth up, the smile he displayed was still a cruel one. Because inside him, the battle between hatefulness and caring persisted still, and she was too close. Too close for him to breathe, too close for him to think properly, and too close to be unnecessarily far from him. And she wasn’t even afraid of him, which both delighted him and drove him mad.

‘Really?’ he hissed, getting up, her hand held tightly in his as he climbed on the bed, his knees pushing her farther.

‘You’re really not afraid?’ he whispered again, more threatening as he pushed her down and she fell onto a sea of soft, ghostly white pillows. He held her down with his own body, his grip on her hand unbearably tight.

‘How,’ he hissed, ‘ can you not. Be. Afraid?’

He stared at her maddened, waiting to feel the shiver of terror crawling down her spine. But there was no shiver. No tremble of her heart, no nothing. She was calm and determined to not be, or even look afraid. But that only fuelled Tom’s rage. He wanted to devour that little lion, trapped underneath him, and teach her a lesson, show her how dangerous he truly was, make her marvel at him. He wanted to make her understand how privileged she was to be able to stay in his company, to be looked after by the most powerful dark wizard in the making. But how? How could he show her the fear, the pain, the rage, without actually hurting her? He was nearly crushing her with his body and his overflowing magic, yet still she was not trembling, she was not shivering. She was lying there as valiantly and as innocently as before, unconsciously defying him.

‘Why?’ he hissed again, driven by her lack of fear. He pressed his head against hers, wishing he could crush her by the mere touch of their skin.

‘Tom…had you wanted to hurt me, wouldn’t you have done so a long time ago?’

He could feel her chest crushed under his more powerful one. Her lungs were struggling to take in enough air for her words, for her blood, for her mind. The fact that she was right annoyed him more than anything else. So when he noticed her lips moving once more, trying to form new words, new grating sentences, he bit them savagely, stopping their movement before sounds could evade them. Now she reacted, surprised and drowning in the new pain, her lungs screaming louder than ever before for air. She tried to kick him, hurt and annoyed, but his body held hers captive as blood trickled into her mouth and down her chin where it was smeared by Tom’s lips. He was finally satisfied, smiling against her skin triumphantly.

‘I’m. Still. Not. Afraid…’ she whispered between gasps for air. ‘But you’re the most selfish bastard I’ve ever met,’ she added.

He laughed cruelly and returned to his chair, freeing her. The irritating feeling in his chest was still there.

Maud wiped her face with her sleeve and turned her back on Tom, hugging the blankets to her chest and burying her head in them. It was her way of telling him she was crossed. Tom raised his eyebrows in amused disbelief.

‘What? The little lion can’t stand a few drops of blood?’

Even though his voice was now dripping with satisfaction, his eyes seemed more bitter as they watched Maud’s back rise painfully slow, in a tortured tremble for air. He wanted to see her face.

‘Maud, turn around,’ he said softly.

‘No. You’re a bully.’

He could hear her pout against her pillow and it made him laugh.

‘Yes, but you already knew that. Turn around.’

‘No.’

‘Well then, I suppose you no longer want me here, if that’s the case...’

He stood up lazily and started toward the doors.

‘…I’ll be going then. Good night, little lion.’

But he didn’t even reach the next bed and he heard her get up, annoyed and alarmed at the same time.

‘No!’ she protested miserably, with spite in every sound she made.

‘No what?’ he turned, faking a confused face, his eyes twinkling. She was on her knees on the bed, blankets surrounding her, her face red in frustration.

‘Would it kill you to be nice to me at least today? And not toy with me…’

His fake confused look persisted and she sighed in defeat.

‘Just stay...if you want,’ and she lain down, still upset, her face hidden among the many pillows.

For a few moments, Tom simply stood there, watching her and smiling his barely perceptible smile. He walked to her side and touched her head gingerly before pulling a chair next to her bed and sitting down.

‘You need only ask,’ he whispered wickedly, crossing his legs and preparing himself mentally for a long night.

And it was indeed a long night, for Maud had refused to spare him another word and had drifted to sleep quite quickly, her chest trembling painfully with each breath. Tom stood there, watching her struggle through her nightmares, feeling useless and powerless, which called back his foul mood. He too hated the Hospital Wing. It was for those too weak to survive in the real world. But now there was something different to his hatred. Now he could no longer associate that place with a destination for the weak, because it had turned into the most dreadful of all things. In his mind, that place was now a reminder of Maud’s mortality, of her fragility and vulnerability.  And he would never be able to shrug that feeling off again. It would stay with him, haunting him beyond forever.

There were a few moments during the night, when he was tempted to look into her mind once more and see what it was that tortured her even in her sleep. And he nearly did so, were it not for the wretched sensation in his chest that stopped him, telling him he didn’t really want to know what it was that followed her in her dreams relentlessly. He didn’t want to get entangled in her existence any more than he already was. It was that part of him which was constantly screaming at him, ordering him to get away as fast as possible—the part he so eagerly ignored.

‘Tom…’

Tom’s eyes shot back to life as they focalised on Maud. She had turned in her sleep, her hand dangling over the edge. Had she really said his name? He watched her intently for a few more minutes, but she was still fast asleep. Annoyed, and somewhat disappointed, he turned his head towards the door, debating whether or not he should just leave her there. There was no real danger to her, not while she was sleeping at least. There wasn’t much harm she could do to herself in that state now, was it? But Tom could imagine her having a nightmare just a bit too frightening and in her fear she could fall over and hit her head. Or she could reach such a state of night terror that she would try to magic her way back to reality and somehow injure herself or worse. He could picture it. Grunting, he turned his attention back to her, convinced she might have chocked herself to death while he wasn’t watching. She had a knack for that.

‘Tom…’

This time he saw it. He saw her lips tremble almost imperceptibly as they whispered his name. He smiled smugly, pleased with himself for having such a lasting impression on her little mind that she would think of him even in her sleep.

‘I thought I smelled fresh blood,’ a hoarse whisper floated into the room, bringing in a deadly chill.

Tom looked up to see his house’s ghost, dragging his ghostly chains of penitence in mid-air. His gaunt face seemed lost in memories long since buried deep behind his black, lifeless eyes. Silvery stained robes brushed Maud’s hair as the ghost flew above her, hovering on the other side of the bed, his eyes fixed on Tom.

‘There was a Slytherin looking for you,’ whispered the Bloody Baron in his gruff, emotionless voice.

Tom nodded, but his eyes returned on Maud’s face.

‘I don’t know where you find them…They’re stupider and stupider with each passing decade,’ the Baron mumbled, his tired eyes dropping on the bundle of blankets in front of him. He frowned, his face turning into a tortured grimace as he watched the two people in front of him.

‘The ghosts tell me you’ve been visiting the Grey Lady. What are you planning?’ He flew past Maud’s bed and stopped a few feet away from Tom, his chains jingling painfully. Tom’s muscles tensed as he watched Maud toss and turn. For a moment, he thought she would wake up to see him next to the Bloody Baron, which would not have been a pleasant sight to behold.

‘I am merely being polite to the inhabitants of this castle, dead or alive,’ he replied in a seductively innocent voice.

But the Baron did not seem to listen to his reply, knowing all too well it was not an honest one. In fact, he wasn’t all that interested in Tom’s affairs, not at that particular moment anyway, for he was gazing contemplatively at the girl sleeping not so peacefully. His pale, almost translucent fingers brushed his chains absent-mindedly. And as the bloody ghost hovered above her bed, Tom’s eyes grew increasingly restless.

‘I suppose I was once like you,’ whispered the ghost, his dead eyes still on the girl.

Tom looked at him inquisitively. He wasn’t particularly fond of the Baron and he knew the feeling was mutual, but he was a means to an end, an ally to be collected and he wasn’t about to lose his patience with such an important set of eyes and ears. So he listened, wary of his apparent interest in his lion.

The Baron awaited no encouragement to continue his musings.

‘I know the Grey Lady has told you her history, and that implies mine as well. I also know you will keep my secret, as I keep some of yours, I suppose.  But you should thread your waters cautiously, for history loves to repeat itself. You are a Slytherin and what all Slytherins share is their attraction to the darker, more mysterious parts of the world. And you remind me of myself, in a way…in the way all Slytherins remind me of myself to a certain point. So I will tell you this. I have watched you since the day you first came in this castle and I know you are not just anybody. _I know._ Perhaps I had to wait for you so I could wash away some of my sins, some of these stains, that I do not know, but I will take this chance and try to bear my chains with an easier heart. I have seen the way you two behave… _I know._ Love is the cruellest magic of them all, it turns us into savages. I let it murder the most precious being in my life. I let it devour me, consume me to the point it had nothing left to consume and then it took her, and with her… myself.’

The Baron stopped, his eyes lost in something only he could see. Tom was growing more and more irritated by the second. The ghost’s story had nothing to compel him, even the Bloody Baron’s voice was against him as it lacked the emotion to make him feel, believe in his words. Tom failed to see the point in the ghost’s tirade, not to mention its meaning.  

‘What exactly are you trying to say?’ hissed Tom, his patience running thin.

‘Don’t let yourself be consumed by what you feel, to the point you’ll destroy the one thing you care for.’

The ghost floated to the nearest wall serenely, as though he had been practicing a monologue and Tom had been nothing more than a flickering candlelight.

‘We were not made for love… Not us monsters, anyway. That thing rips havoc in the simplest of hearts, imagine what it does with the heart of havoc itself.’

And with that, he vanished behind the wall, his chains rattling through cold stone, leaving Tom Riddle angry, verging on perplex.

‘Love,’ he spat disbelievingly, wondering why people cowered at the mention of such an utterly useless thing. Magic was surely much more powerful, much more frightening than a mere whim of the heart, unreliable and inconsistent.

Maud turned yet again in her sleep, knocking over one of her blankets. He picked it up, his lips curled upwards, and covered her again, his hands lingering a while longer on her back. She smiled in her sleep and hugged his hand before he could retreat, mumbling something he couldn’t understand. It could have been a _‘stay’_ , or it could have been his name, just as well as it could have been a muffled cry of pain and nothing intelligible at all. Nevertheless, Tom refused to try and pry his hand free, summoning his chair closer until it was almost pressed against her bed.

Right then, in that moment, he didn’t care about the stupidity of ghosts, or about the Slytherin looking for him. He didn’t have room in his mind to spare for Dumbledore, or any other thoughts he would normally dissect. In that moment, all he cared about was Maud’s still cold skin, her ragged breathing, her timid heart-beat, her soft lips against his hand. That was all he really wanted to focus on. Not even the pang in his chest or the murderous groan in his blood could take away that second outstretched into a decade of utter and completely unrecognized bliss. 


	17. Halloween

Dumbledore would have advised anyone to dream. Dream with passion, dream endlessly and earnestly, for in our dreams, we enter a world that is entirely our own. One can glide over the highest mountains, or sink beneath the bluest of oceans, if one so desires. Dreams can heal a great deal of things, just as easily as they can tear new wounds. However, the same man would later in his years tell a young mister Potter not to dwell on dreams and forget to live. While it can be an extraordinary remedy for the now, wasting away in illusions does not cast away the pains and sorrows of our soul. But some pains are harder to chase away than others, and they can haunt until there is nothing left in their wake, until they have extinguish the very core of the heart plagued. And against that, dreams are but an instrument of torture.

Imagine standing in front of a tall, dark, sturdy tree which, in its elegance, strives for the flickering, impossible lights shimmering in the night sky, bewitching all that is below. It can never compare, nor reach that impossible ideal of light and ethereal beauty, yet it keeps on stretching its twigs and leaves, as though it might pass the boundary of its existence by sheer will alone. However, that tree is the testimony of the dead and the lives yet to be lived, and is bound by its duty to the dark crust of earth that brings forth all that is tough, and hard, and alive through the forceful pumping of blood and sap. Therefore, the tree will never grow into anything more but a history of soon to be ancient families, doomed to bathe in a glowing constant reminder that he is never to attain that privileged place in the night sky.

There she imagined herself to stand, wondering at the massive tree with unseen roots poisoning the ground beneath her feet. But no matter how hard she tried, her eyes would not focus on the branches and the names hanging from the frail twigs, swinging precariously in the cold air of dreams. For her there were no roots thick enough to hold her above the ground so she could read, or even glance at the faces of unknown ancestors. That was her. The uprooted beholder, doomed to never attain that privileged place those who know their past occupy in the fabric of the universe. She was a being without place in that meticulously conceived pattern of accidents and conspiracies, plans and dreams—something which we call life.

So the lights turned sour and refused to shine their eerie light upon her sad face, retreating behind dark, ominous clouds that bore no warmth for her either. Cast away, Maud fell back into her usual, nightmarish corner of darkness, tortured by the same raspy growl and the steady pace of an unseen ghoul that fed off of her rootless being.

‘You have put the Slytherins into a rather unforeseen predicament,’ chuckled Dumbledore when he saw Maud’s eyes open suddenly, panic forcing them to take in her surroundings before her mind would calm her heart.  He was sitting patiently on the chair Tom had occupied the night before, and light was playing on his face, casting long shadows on his silvery beard. His fingers were intertwined and rested happily in his lap. Flowers bloomed on the nightstand otherwise packed with coloured boxes of sweets, some of which trembled enthusiastically and gave out weird and rather alarming sounds.

‘I think they have never faced the dilemma of having one of their own be saved by a Gryffindor and they don’t quite know how to go about this…confusing incident. You might just have shaken one of their fundamental beliefs, dear Maud.’

‘Sir?’

Maud was confused. Her eyes kept racing between the over stacked nightstand and the chair on which Dumbledore sat. Why were there boxes upon boxes of chocolate frogs and Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, fruit cakes and other, less recognizable, sweets? Where was Tom? But Dumbledore’s piercing eyes seemed to see right through her befuddled look, as the shadow of a bitter smile crept upon his face.

‘Mister Riddle spent his night watching over you, but was forced out by Madam Creavey when it became apparent he had not closed an eye the entire night. I dare say you’ve made quite an impression on the students here, who felt the need to express their curiosity and gratitude for saving that little boy through candy. Tom Riddle in particular, even before your brave act.’

Maud blinked in reserved astonishment at Dumbledore’s words. Even though the events of yesterday had started to crawl back to her in their lazy pace, her attention was stolen by something in the professor’s voice. Something which warned of the things he had put off saying not long ago and were now building up inside of him, threatening to fly from his lips at any moment.

‘There is something I should know, isn’t there?’ she sighed, bracing herself for what she felt had to be an unwanted truth, leaning against the bed’s grating in preparation.

Dumbledore’s smile grew even bitterer as it rose closer to the surface than ever before. He asked himself once more, in his mind, if it was absolutely necessary that she should know, and the answer remained the same, cruel and unyielding. But not just yet. He could not bring himself to test her newly found strength so soon after such a magnificent discovery. For no matter how hard one prides oneself to be the sole connoisseur of one’s person, with all the secrets and all the nightmares that plague one’s life, the truth is there are facts that are better left alone in the perilous art of self-knowledge. Especially in one so young and so lost.

‘Always, my dear. But not now, not just yet. For now, I will only need to hear your account of yesterday’s events.’

It was as Dumbledore had assumed—the part which interested him the most, at least. Maud had been, as the Mere people had told him the previous day, on the shore and only a few inches of water were touching her legs when the Grindylow had launched itself at her, claiming her for its own.

‘Is the boy alright?’

Her voice brought Dumbledore back from his reverie and he nodded to her, a tired smile playing on his lips.

‘Yes, I daresay he is. He had the misfortune of losing some precious heirloom to the lake’s whim and had tried to retrieve it using his own strength, which, as you’ve seen, did not amount to much against the strong tides. Poor boy was still upset about that object even while his lungs trembled with the cold water.’

Maud couldn’t help but laugh.

‘A heirloom? That’s it? He risked his own life for some old object passed down to him?’

She laughed heartily until her lungs wailed at her in pain, but hidden behind that merry sound was the bitter jealousy of someone who craved desperately for a conscious attachment to their past. Soon enough, her fit of laughter turned into a tired yet violent sob as the child within caved in. She hugged her legs and tried to muffle the sad noise. Dumbledore gave up his chair for a softer patch of bed where he sat down with the intention of calming the girl down.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered between sobs, trying to hold back the tears while her chest convulsed violently.

‘I have not forgotten my promise, Maud,’ whispered Dumbledore, his eyes avoiding her despite the closeness.

‘I know…I—I’m so—sorry…’

There was something else she had wanted to say for a moment, as she was tempted to give in completely to the miserable sorrow that was oozing out of her. She didn’t, however. Even though Dumbledore’s bony yet soothing hand on her back made her think of how her father’s, or her mother’s hand should be there, not his, not anyone else’s. Yet there she was, in the infirmary of that fantastical school, with no identity other than the one created by the wizard who was now the only _“heirloom”_ she possessed. And he was tempted to tell her everything in hope it would take away her pain, because Dumbledore’s already scarred heart could not bear it.  Ironically, the very truth he was now hiding from the girl was the reason for which he felt compelled to protect her, making him care for her in a way his heart had given up hoping to feel again. Perhaps he was selfish, but Dumbledore wanted to have her as a child for a while longer, even a wounded one.

So he placed his hand gently on her head and dared look her in the eye from above his half-moon spectacles with all the warmth and kindness Albus Dumbledore possessed.

‘Maud, it does not do to give way to the misery and sorrow, nourishing it with your tears and your pain.’

He wiped the tears away from her eyes and cheeks.

‘You mustn’t envy a boy who would chase away a ghost, trading his life for the object in which he had placed his soul. You are far more fortunate than he could ever be, for you are loved as fiercely—or even more so, some would argue—as you yourself love. And in my humble opinion, people are more valuable than tokens of once-felt tenderness.’

Maud offered him a weak smile as she battled against the tears. Dumbledore was right. She might not have parents presently, but she had people whom she loved dearly and who, in turn, cared for her enough, if not as much or more. She thought of the kind wizard standing next to her, of Arthur, of Charlie, even of Tilda. And then she thought of Tom who would have laughed cruelly at her meltdown if he had been there to witness it. Who made her madder than anyone else, who teased her and tortured others, who had the makings of a cruel, cruel man, but who had watched over her the entire night and had lost his well-constructed temper when she had nearly drowned, caring for her in his weird, twisted way. Her cheeks turned a violent red as she realised the stupidity of her reaction. She was anything but alone.

Sensing her humiliation, Dumbledore stood up, a forced cheerfulness about him meant to ease away the internal reproach she was yelling at herself mentally.

‘Well, I should be leaving, before Madam Creavey bursts in to scold me for overstaying my permission,’ he chuckled at the thought of being sent away by a nurse.

Although embarrassed for her stupid outburst, Maud would have liked the professor to stay a while longer.

‘Couldn’t you stay for a while longer, sir? I really…don’t like this place,’ she pleaded rather fearfully, afraid she was starting to sound like a spoiled child.

‘I’m afraid she’ll take me off her Christmas list. And I really like the earmuffs she sent me last year,’ he smiled fondly at the memory. ‘But not to worry, I am sure mister Riddle is already climbing up the stairs from his lunch, eager to resume his duties. And Madam Creavey assured me that you’ll be perfectly restored by tomorrow, so you’ll be able to attend the Halloween feast.’

By the time Maud had opened her mouth to ask what Halloween meant, Dumbledore’s tall figure had already vanished behind the heavy wooden doors. Disappointed and still bearing the red shades of her shame upon her cheeks, Maud curled back under her blanket, mentally kicking herself while curiosity arose in her as she remembered how Dumbledore had stopped himself at the last moment from saying something important to her. What was he so reluctant to share with her? It couldn’t be that bad, could it? Otherwise he wouldn’t have shrunken back from telling her, not if it was something urgent and of grave importance at least… She could only hope.

Nevertheless, despite her fears and shameful sorrows, Maud smiled at the mental image of Albus Dumbledore. He was a fascinating mind and a kind heart, full of wisdom and knowledge, even though, at times, she felt she sensed something stir inside him, something dark and painful which he usually kept successfully hidden, but surfaced nonetheless through the darker notes in his voice. Remembering how she wasted her time with the professor and not knowing whether to kick herself or not, she sighed and curled into an even tighter ball under her blanket, summoning sleep to chase away the boredom and the unpleasantness of that room. For some reason, not even the dungeons could have had such a repellent effect on her as the Hospital Wing. And sleep, with all its nightmares, would not come either, to steal her away from her much dreaded surroundings.

Annoyed, she tossed the blanket to the side and fished her wand from the sea of candy on the nightstand. If she was stuck there, she might as well practice some magic. Especially the Patronus Charm, since she had yet to cast it successfully. Crossing her legs on the bed, she raised her wand and cleared her voice, her heart beating faster in terrified anticipation. Her lungs whimpered in her chest, untrusting and cowardly.

‘Alright…Happy memory…think happy. Happy,’ she muttered to herself nervously.

Suppose she somehow managed to get it wrong again and summon another beast. What then? She slumped back against her pillows, imagining a fire demon on a rampage through the castle, killing and maiming as many as possible.

‘Nope. No thank you,’ she whispered caught in the reverie, her eyes wide and unblinking.

As she dropped her wand, she imagined what it must be like to be a painter, desperate to paint and capture movement and people on canvas while lacking the courage and, perhaps, the talent or the inspiration for it. She was bored and her lungs were still hurting, sinking her not so high spirits even lower.

‘I see you’ve missed me,’ Tom’s voice rang through the room in its usual self-centred tone.

Maud’s head turned immediately to face the source of the noise and see Tom walking slowly, confidently, towards her bed, a smug smile displayed upon his lips. Overwhelmed with joy, her entire face lightened up brightly, she stood up on her knees and latched herself onto him. Her head resting on his chest, she squeezed his torso with all her force, not caring one bit for the boost of ego she was providing him with through that welcome. There were a few cruel and arrogant remarks he had on the tip of his tongue, ready to launch at her in his surprised surge of pride, but he kept them locked behind his smiling lips. In all reality, Tom Riddle was so surprised by that welcoming, that he was quite speechless.

‘What’s happened?’ he asked finally, though she was still holding him tightly, her head resting right below his chin.

‘Nothing…’he heard her muffled voice, feeling it vibrate at the base of his own throat. ‘I’m just grateful.’

‘For what?’

He was confused and caught off-guard and he didn’t particularly enjoy that feeling.

Maud did not reply. Instead, she let him go, smiling radiantly at him, seeming so cheerful that Tom wondered for a few moments if she was faking it all.

‘I’m bored,’ she blurted out, looking at him hopefully.

He raised his eyebrows and sat down on her bed, narrowly missing her feet.

‘So I see.’ He wasn’t in the best of moods and Maud’s face fell as she noticed this.

‘Is there something the matter?’ she asked, placing her hand on his shoulder to make him look at her. But he was staring at his own fingers, seemingly lost in thought in a way she had never seen him before. He seemed…displeased.

‘Tom…’

This time he turned his head, a set of dark, burning eyes staring her down as though blaming her for not knowing beforehand what was annoying him. However, Maud could not penetrate the depths of his mind and remained in the dark as to what had brought him into such a state. He seemed burdened by that kind of mood when one, out of emotionless boredom, would turn to their savagery for some kind of comfort, or feeling. To put it more simply, he looked lost in his own self.

‘Dumbledore said that, if everything went well today, Madam Creavey might let me go tomorrow, in time for Halloween. What’s Halloween?’

She smiled innocently at him, hoping against all probability that it would be sufficient to get him into a better disposition.

‘Just an occasion to decorate, eat candy and scare the living.’

Maud’s heart sank for the second time. She had expected him to laugh at her for not knowing what Halloween was, ridicule her or tease her in some way, but he had replied in the flattest of tones, no amusement hidden behind, or any other emotion for that matter.

‘What’s the matter with you?’

She stared at him confused and desperate to understand. There were dark shadows under his eyes—the result of a sleepless night, but other than the excessive paleness of his face, there was nothing else there to indicate something was amiss. Nothing except, perhaps, the lack of emotions displayed, which was alarming even though he was Tom Riddle. Worried of what she saw, or rather didn’t see in his eyes, Maud nudged him with all her might, much like a child would have done with an adult who was seemingly playing a prank and, as a consequence, scaring the living daylights out of said child.

‘You’re scaring me, Tom!’ 

She shook him once more, but other than a flash of annoyance, the girl could see no remarkable reaction cross his features. Part of her wanted to give up, pout and lie down with her back turned to him. It seemed a pointless job, trying to persuade a statue to do more than just stand there motionless. However, something told her that, if she were to lay down her arms and seize fighting, he would simply walk away in that same state. So she kept poking, shaking, and, occasionally, even hitting him—everything in between her coughing fits. After a few minutes, when her ears had started to ring with the sound of her own voice, Maud thought she could see something stir in him, as though a predator was waking up from its faked nap, resuming its stalking.

‘I don’t understand,’ he said eventually, squinting his eyes and cocking his head for emphasize. He had studied her that entire time, trying to solve some mental puzzle involving her.

‘Me neither,’ she replied, punching him in the arm and coughing, annoyed and convinced he had played a game with her.

He grinned at her as a spark ignited itself in his eyes, making Maud inch away from him. Something was definitely wrong that day, for Tom Riddle appeared to have lost his carefully constructed Head Boy mask.

‘I think you should go to sleep,’ whispered Maud as he closed the distance between them, his eyes studying her intently.

‘Why? Am I frightening you?’

His grin widened, hungry for a confirmation.

‘No,’ she lied, inching farther nonetheless. He was so close to her now she could see his long eyelashes curbed, his smooth, pale skin, glowing ever so slightly from the sun’s cold light, even the few stray strands of hair brushing his temple. Maud imagined she could hear his lungs taking in the air with a low, heavy hiss, but they were, most likely, her own struggling to oxygenate her brain.

Just as she was thinking they couldn’t be any closer without actually touching, the doors opened with a loud screech, followed by the even louder footsteps and the booming of voices.

‘Maaaaud!’ cried Tilda in excitement to a bewildered Maud. Tom had jumped to his feet and was now leaving the ward, a look of unquenchable thirst upon his face, mixed with the destructive rage caused by the Gryffindors’ unwelcomed arrival. He passed Arthur and Charlie without so much as a glance, all the while feeling Maud’s anxiousness poking him in the back. 

Tilda stared at Tom’s back and then back at Maud, her eyes racing to and fro until the former vanished behind the doors, his shoulders tight with repressed hexes.

‘What? What…’

She watched Maud confused, her eyes still darting towards the door. Her hands gestured impatiently as an excited smile grew on her lips.

‘What? What is…what was Tom Riddle—here?’

Her eyes were wide and her smile manic, even for her standards.

‘He was visiting,’ replied Maud innocently, not knowing whether to laugh at Tilda’s reaction or frown with worry as a consequence of Tom’s behaviour. Charlie and Arthur both sat down on her bed, framing her feet and watching Tilda bounce off her chair while squeaking excitedly.

‘But why? Are you—ah!’

She gasped in between squeaks.

‘Am I what?’

‘You know!’

Maud looked at the two boys in confusion. She was stifling a laugh, but she couldn’t make sense of what Tilda was trying to say, much less her reaction.

‘I don’t know. What?’

‘Seeing each other!’

Tilda’s enthusiasm and curiosity had reached a new peek.

‘Well…I just saw him,’ replied Maud, clearly not understanding as she pointed towards the door in confusion.

Charlie and Arthur both burst into a roar of laughter.

‘She means dating,’ managed Charlie.

‘What’s dating?’

‘You for real?’ cried Tilda and Arthur at the same time, possibly with some variation as they struggled to choose between feeling shocked and unbelievably amused.

Maud turned red and hugged a pillow, hoping against all hope that it might grow so large it would hide her from everyone. She really didn’t understand what they were talking about. There were some things one cannot learn from books. Things one must be taught, experience, or see in others. Perhaps she had known all those things before, but not anymore.

‘As in going out with someone when you care for them,’ replied Arthur seeing the embarrassment on Maud’s face, despite it being hidden almost entirely by her pillow.

‘So…we were dating?’ she asked innocently, lowering the pillow as she stared him right in the eye.

It was Arthur’s turn to assume a violent shade of red as the others laughed heartily, especially Charlie, whose massive body shook the bed. The boy ran his fingers through his hair, sniggering nervously.

‘When Arthur said care,’ intervened Tilda between fits of laughter, ‘he meant romantically.’

And then she burst again, losing control over her body which convulsed with laughter.

‘Oh,’ said Maud simply. ‘OH!’ After which, not knowing what else to do and feeling too embarrassed, she too started laughing.

‘Well?’ Tilda pressed on.

‘Well?’

‘Argh! Are you, are you not dating Tom mind-blowingly handsome of a Slytherin Riddle?’

‘Whoa, there, Tilds’. You’re so excited you’re starting to skip articles,’ replied Arthur before Maud could, the colour finally fading from his cheeks.

‘Well…I don’t know.’

‘How can you not know??’ Tilda looked on the verge of exploding. ‘He’s Tom Riddle! You can’t not know if you’re dating! It’s impossible. The universe would not allow such confusion!’

‘I don’t know,’ Maud’s confusion was starting to swell up inside her head, threatening to burst as well. ‘I suppose. Does kissing mean we’re dating?’

That was it. The final straw. Tilda leaped out of her chair, jumping up and down, squeaking and doing some kind of ritual dance of excitement, while the boys’ jaws dropped and, somehow, Arthur fell off Maud’s bed. After a second of utter shock, Charlie burst into a new fit of laughter, adding to the weird sounds coming from Tilda. Maud didn’t know if she should run and hide or take cover under her blanket. She didn’t even know if she should feel embarrassed or not.

‘Miss Stirling! What is the meaning of this? I will not have my patient disturbed by your follies!’

Madam Creavey had walked into the room, her stern voice falling like shards of ice against Tilda’s noise, who stopped immediately and sat down as innocently as possible while displaying the biggest grin Maud had ever seen on anyone.

Arthur picked himself up and resumed his position at Maud’s feet. Madam Creavey looked at them reproachful, warning them with her eyes that she should not hesitate to kick them out unceremoniously if they should disturb her patient with another ruckus such as that. She took Maud’s temperature, all the while their ears ringing with the sudden silence, and then left the ward as abruptly as she had come in.

When the door was once more safely closed, Tilda took the liberty of giggling at Maud, her eyes sparkling.

‘You kissed!’ she whispered, not noticing the boys flinch awkwardly. It became clear to them that they were about to witness a session of girly gossip—every boy’s nightmare.

Maud’s cheek flushed red again, feeling as awkward as Arthur and Charlie, who started talking about some Quidditch game.

‘Yeah…’ she replied, quietly. She was just discovering how little she liked being in the limelight.

‘Merlin’s beard!’ gasped Tilda, clapping her hands excitedly. ‘And?’

‘And what?’

‘Do you like him? Well, of course you like him. How could you not. Head Boy, handsome, impossibly so, polite, intelligent…he’s a dream, really.’

Maud gawked at her. Is that what everybody thought of Tom? Not that it was wrong, but he wasn’t just that. And he most certainly wasn’t polite. There were so many layers about him, reducing him to those few words seemed inaccurate. She would have said: charming, manipulative, intelligent, smug and annoying, really.

‘Not that he’s my type,’ added Tilda quickly, suddenly snapping out of her praising spree. ‘But he seems the school’s idol, or something.’ Here she grinned again, wider still.

‘Why did he leave? Is it because we came in?’ This time it was Charlie who asked the question.

Maud shrugged, honestly not knowing, but she was glad someone else had jumped in on their conversation. She wasn’t feeling comfortable discussing her— whatever it was she had with Tom— with others.

‘Perhaps the Gryffindor level was too high,’ laughed Arthur.

‘He’s not like that,’ replied Maud, forcing a laugh, but then remembering who had been responsible for the attack on Arthur.

‘Do you want some candy? I’ve got loads of them,’ she pointed at the nightstand, eager to have the subject changed.

‘Aw, you’re a proper little hero, aren’t you?’ said Arthur, ruffling her hair as he reached for a box of _Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans_. She smiled at him as he passed it to the others. She couldn’t help but notice the difference between Arthur and Tom. Arthur was so…carefree, optimistic and generous in affections, kind-hearted jokes and fun time, while Tom was intensity wrapped in darkness, sass, teasing and skin-burning touches that tinged long after his hand had gone.

When Madam Creavey returned later, they had gone through most of the chocolate and pastry on her nightstand. Her lungs seemed to hurt more from all the laughter, but she omitted that fact when the nurse consulted her. She then rushed her friends away, claiming that Maud needed to rest and they to eat, as it was almost dinner time. Tilda’s smile never faltered, even as she was ushered out the door by an impatient Madam Creavey.

Maud spent the rest of her day listening for footsteps, eager to believe that she had not been abandoned there, all alone, that Tom would eventually return. But he didn’t, and time crawled away at a snail’s pace, dragging ever-lasting moments of boredom across infinite coughing fits.

The following day was announced by dark, heavy clouds which rumbled and growled from above, sending shivers down animal spines and threatening even the steadiest of tress. It was proper Halloween weather, with winds wailing in the distance and carrying the first of November’s rains towards a grey, already wet stone castle. The atmosphere was such outside, that the sun might as well have refused to rise in the sky and the difference would not have been observed.

The first drops of rain hit the rooftops at midday, when Maud was discharged by a grumpy Madam Creavey who would have preferred to keep her under her observation at least another day. Alas, the tempers of the young prevailed and there was nothing to say or do against the girl’s resolve to leave the Hospital Wing, healthy or not. And since Madam Creavey was already put off by the weather and the bustling preparations for a proper Halloween, she conceded.

Dark as it was outside, the castle was supplied with twice the usual amount of candles to light the eerie and cold corridors, which, due to the black clouds obscuring the sun, went unnoticed. As a result, the castle seemed more strange than ever, with ghosts appearing from behind walls and passing through whomever might be in their way, the air itself being charged with something more, not only magic or electricity from the storm, but a patient silence, vibrating with promises of yet to happen deeds, or long past lives that vowed to return amongst the living. Halloween had arrived at Hogwarts.

Maud’s skin itched in anticipation. Her heart quivered every time she took a turn on an abandoned corridor. She felt watched, but whenever her head would turn to face her stalker, darkness would be there to meet her, unyielding and mysterious. Every stone seemed to ripple with secrets of the past, craving to spill them out and forget their vows in their eagerness to unburden themselves. Maud did not like that atmosphere and she blamed it entirely on that weird holiday, or whatever it was—she had yet to understand. All the other students seemed to be enjoying themselves, however, laughing on corridors and chasing one another down flights of stairs. She alone felt the need to cower away in the best illuminated corner she could find. There was, nevertheless, a bright side to the storm, the lack of light and sense of security—no one appeared to be noticing her, despite her recent act of stupid heroism, as Tom himself might have put it. So, at least, she was not in the centre of anyone’s attention. Not even Tom’s, who was never there, no matter where her eyes wandered to, his absence standing out in the bustle and the noise.

Facing such gloomy prospects for the day, she decided to retreat to the only place she felt would never change—the library. And there she drowned the hours, in books and misplaced charts of far-away lands.

‘What are you lass doing here?’

The caretaker’s raspy voice made Maud jump. She watched confused as the man approached, a long stick firmly gripped in his right hand, a massive fist which bore the signs of a busy day cleaning the castle.

‘What’re you hiding here for?’ his grumpy tone seemed almost to turn into a sigh as he sat down at her table. ‘Always hiding, you…’

He was beaten down from the Halloween preparations, even though he had had the house elves for help. He looked sad and defeated, even shrunken in size since Maud had last seen him—on that terrible day when he came charging into the Great Hall to announce the deaths in the Forbidden Forest. He had remained a solid man, but his skin had assumed an unhealthy glow, greyish and depressing. Even the veins that usually shined through his scalp appeared to have shrivelled away into a feebler state. Rancorous Carpe, the near Squib, had turned into a hopeless, bitter man.

‘I am not hiding, sir,’ whispered Maud as she put down the book she had been perusing.

‘Aye, and I’m descendant of ol’ Merlin,’ the man attempted a chuckle as he stretched his weary limbs, but it came out more like a wounded dog’s howl. He coughed annoyed, fixing his muddy green eyes on the girl in front of him. They were not Dumbledore’s piercing eyes, or Tom’s for that matter, however, they noticed more than they gave away, all the while maintaining a sad, but honest quality to them. His were eyes that had seen enough.

‘D’you know…one who runs an’ hides knows when another’s the same. Now, no need to make faces like that, lass.’

He leaned back in his chair and sighed with relief. Rancorous Carpe was tired of everything—seeing one’s ideal shattered in a million pieces would do that to any man, let alone someone who had not gotten much to live for to begin with.  Now, all he owned was a pair of old eyes and a tired curiosity.

‘So…what’re you hiding here for? And don’t repeat yourself by saying you don’t. You are.’

‘Halloween, sir,’ replied Maud quietly, still confused.

‘Mhm…I reckon this castle has seen enough death without them going about, celebratin’ it ‘n all. Foolish people. Them ghosts always get so full with themselves with this Halloween gibberish.’

They stared at each other for a few minutes, silently, both lost in their own thoughts. Maud kind of liked his weird, colourful way of speaking, especially since she had heard him talk normally on other occasions, without a hint of an accent in his voice. Talking like he was now seemed to somehow comfort him.

‘Well…’ he said abruptly, almost as if to wake himself up from his reveries more than to get her attention. ‘I just wanted to say…actually, I was looking for you specifically. Thing is, be careful with that fancy bird of yours, lass.’

Maud’s eyes widened instantaneously.

‘Shh, don’t worry, dove. I’m not here to confiscate it or whatever gimmicks you think me capable of. No. I was around the Hospital Wing yesterday or so, cleaning Peeves’ mess as always, and saw this bird through the window. Strange bird, really. Something of the sort Professor Dumbledore’s got in his study. Thing is, it was trying to get into the ward. It was trying to get to you. But you know Madam Creavey…she would hex and hang herself before seeing a strange bird in her beloved wing. So I took it to Professor Dumbledore –lovely creature that bird of yours—‘cause I remembered people sayin’ you’re a relation to him, or some sort of that. I thought it was best he took care of it until you got better.’

Maud had been on her feet for quite some time now, anxious to hear about Emryk and his whereabouts, but as soon as she heard Dumbledore’s name being mentioned, she relaxed back into her seat, a thankful smile upon her lips.

‘Thank you, sir! Thank you so much!’

‘No worry, no worry, lassie. But I wanted you to know—’, his voice dropped a tone or two as he leaned forward, staring her in the eye, deadly serious. ‘You shouldn’t let that bird of yours wander off like that. Even I can tell it’s a rare thing and Hogwarts is not as safe as people say. Not now at least. Not with the murders an’ all that. So be careful. An’ above all, you yourself don’t wander off. I beg you, girl.’

At that, her smile faded and they both got up, the caretaker more slowly as his bones ached with that day’s work. Maud’s lungs ached with the air she had refused to let out as she feared she might not have the strength to breathe another in. The library itself seemed darker, and the silence less natural, less comforting.

‘Come. The feast is starting, like it or not,’ he gestured grimly towards the door. With his broad shoulders brought in on themselves and every muscle in his back tensed, the caretaker looked prepared for some kind of war. He dragged his body behind her, making full use of his stick. Maud had expected him to follow her and make sure she gets to the Great Hall, but when she turned around in the hallway, the man had taken his stick towards the other end, muttering something to a ghost that had materialized at his side. She shivered remembering his words and decided to take the shortcut. Halloween seemed less frightening in the presence of good food, lots of candles and noisy children. And despite the feeling of impending danger Carpe had inflicted on her, she found herself smiling shyly at the thought of Emryk, safe and sound in Dumbledore’s study. Perhaps that is what he had wanted to tell her that morning. However unlikely that seemed, the hopeful feeling blossomed in her heart, regardless of all the shadows that were gathering in the corners, waiting patiently.

The Great Hall raged with thunders and lightings that shook the tables and made the glasses clink nervously. Hundreds of terrifying pumpkin faces floated above, protecting the candles with a devilish smile. The entire hall had an orange glow about it which, instead of chasing away the darkness, seemed to outline every shadow more sharply, as though to turn everyone’s head and make them notice and shiver at the proximity of danger.  

Maud sat down at the Gryffindor table so she could keep an eye on the Slytherins, one in particular, which is why when Tilda took her seat next to her, she was blushing violently, like a child caught red-handed.

‘Someone’s dressed-up as a ghost,’ joked Arthur sitting down on her other side.

For some reason, the colour was drained from her cheeks as suddenly as it had appeared.

‘What?’ she asked, confused.

‘Never mind that, Arthur,’ jumped in Tilda, eager to continue their Riddle discussion from the other day. Maud, however, was too busy trying to spot Tom at the crowded Slytherin table.

‘I really don’t have anything to say,’ replied Maud before a question could part with the girl’s lips. ‘I am as confused as you are, even more so I would say…’ She had given up trying to find Tom and was now playing with her food, not hungry at all.

Tilda pouted at her and returned to her chicken leg, stabbing it determinately with her fork.

‘Well, this is a cheerful gathering,’ Arthur watched the two girls, amused. ‘Say, when are you going to hide under the table again? It seemed such fun, I was thinking of maybe trying it myself.’

Maud turned her head to a kind and smiling Arthur and couldn’t help but laugh at the memory.

‘I’ll just wait for you to start talking about Quidditch,’ she grinned.

‘Ouch, that’s not fair! That’s a low blow. I’m not picking on you for talking about perfect-everything over there.’ He laughed and pointed at the Slytherin table, exactly where Tom was sitting with a fork forgotten in his hand as he stared at her, his eyes burning. But as soon as she had followed Arthur’s gesture with her eyes to where he was, he turned his head defiantly to the girl next to him, who was talking to him for quite some time now, unheard and ignored until that very moment.

Maud frowned, then turned her gaze back on her plate, then on Arthur once more, grinning, more bitterly this time.

‘Shall we?’ she asked as she ducked under the table, careful not to step or fall on anyone’s foot.

She heard Arthur’s laugh before he too crouched under the table, trying to keep his limbs as closely together as possible. He was too large for that hideaway.

‘And I haven’t even mentioned Quidditch yet! Tsk, getting impatient, are we?’

‘Me? Never,’ she giggled.

‘For the love of Merlin, ouch!’

Tilda’s foot fought to free itself as Arthur had sat on it. He jumped in surprise and bumped against the table hard enough to cause someone’s goblet to fall over.

‘What on earth?’ Tilda’s head popped out from under the cloth, her golden locks brushing Arthur’s feet as she frowned at them. ‘What are you doing down here?’

‘Tea party. Want to join us?’ Arthur offered his hand ceremoniously, a charming smile displayed in all its splendour on his face for the girl. Tilda laughed and put her hand in his as she struggled to avoid hitting the table.

‘Did you bring the candy?’ asked the boy once she was sitting on the floor, hugging her legs in a futile attempt to take up as little room as possible.

‘No, they haven’t brought the dessert yet.’

‘Oh, well.’

Maud laughed. 

‘Isn’t this lovely?’ he beamed at the two of them. ‘The best way to enjoy a feast, really.’

‘I agree,’ chimed in Maud.

‘Yes, yes. Absolutely fantastic. Marvellous. Always wanted to spend an evening at the feet of others.’

‘Tilda Stirling, where are your manners? These are our guests. And how do we treat our guests?’

Tilda watched puzzled as Arthur gestured towards the feet surrounding them.

‘We make them dance,’ he grinned and flicked his wand at the nearest feet which immediately started to move, jump, and kick. Tilda was laughing heartily, providing Arthur with all the encouragement he needed as he repeated the motion again, and again, and again.

The table was now trembling and so was the stone floor on which they sat, as a sea of feet began an Irish dance. They heard a few girls scream, many more laughing, as boys swore loudly while they fought to keep their plates and goblets in place. A few even tried to peer under the table, before they received merciless kicks in the jaws from their own limbs. But the unusual fuss at the Gryffindor table went unnoticed in the general clamour of the Hall, at which the ghosts trying to frighten the first years contributed quite a lot.

Maud laughed with the other two, but soon enough it became clear to them that they could no longer avoid being hit and, after a few painful blows to their ribs, she led the way towards the other end of the table.

‘Arthur,’ cried Tilda over the roar of laughter coming from the Hufflepuff table, ‘perhaps it would be best if you put a stop to the charm.’ She had narrowly avoided a rather strong foot which swung dangerously at her head.

‘Well…since you’ve asked so—ouch!’ He massaged his stomach while he waved his wand at the feet, mumbling a few curses under his breath at the owner of the limb who had hit him. ‘There,’ he sighed when the feet had stopped dancing and he collapsed on Maud, who yelped and grabbed Tilda’s arm for support, causing her to fall on her back as well.

‘Seriously, Arthur!’ But Maud was not upset; in fact, she was stifling a laugh for she had noticed a few curious heads popping out from under the tablecloth to inspect the cause of the temporary loss of limb control.

‘See? This is what happens when you don’t let people question your relationship status, or talk about Quidditch,’ Arthur laughed, propping himself on his elbows just as Tilda delivered a kick in his back. They were a knot of limbs and robes.

‘Ouch!’

‘Oh, stop being a baby,’ retorted Tilda.

‘You!’

The voice had belonged to a freckled boy whose face was so red it might have been a charmed oversized tomato. He pointed his plump finger at Arthur who widened his eyes in shock before nudging Maud and pulling Tilda, yelling a desperate:

‘Run! Crawl! Whatever you can, just move!’

They bellied away as fast as they could, all the while hearing more and more people pop their heads under the table to see what was happening.

‘Tea party my boggart!’ cried Tilda as they reached the other end of the table and crawled out into the dim light, the door just a few feet away. Arthur was already on his feet, smiling innocently at any curious watcher.

‘Look, they brought the dessert!’

He turned to the two girls with excitement in his eyes. ‘Coming?’

But he didn’t wait for an answer and turned around, in search of an empty seat, the adventure past him. Tilda rolled her eyes at his back, smiled, and then followed him, assuming Maud would do the same. Maud, however, watched the two of them walk away, back into the crowd of joyous, ravenous people, who had almost instantaneously forgotten the limbs incident, even as it was happening. She didn’t feel hungry and she knew that if she were to return to her seat, there would be no way of ignoring Tom and that girl. She wasn’t jealous, however, she was disappointed and, perhaps, a bit upset. He had no right to look at her like that, as though she was doing something wrong, purposefully hurting him, when he was the one acting up in the Hospital Wing and abandoning her. At least, whenever she had angered him, it had been without her knowing it or wanting it, but now he had turned to that girl specifically to taunt her. I am better than this, she whispered to herself as she turned around and left the Great Hall without looking back, if she had, she might have seen Tom get up as well, interrupting the Slytherin girl midsentence.

The castle halls were deserted. No corridor teaming with noisy pupils, no rush of footsteps down moving staircases, not even Peeves’ cackle ringing off stone walls. All that moved around Maud were either ghosts, or the portraits of the dead rushing from one painting to another.  She ran past the staircase, through a concealed corridor, determined to get Emryk back from Dumbledore before she remembered he was still enjoying the Halloween feast. If it weren’t for the rain, at least, she could have gone for a walk outside and escape that suffocating atmosphere which made her skin prickle in anxiety. Looking around her, at the empty corridor whose windows reflected the shadowy rain outside, Maud couldn’t help but stare in shock at the scale of her surroundings. It was only now that, seeing the corridor empty, she became aware of the immensity of the castle. A large archway awaited her at the other end, her path lighted by a few candles and the moonlight that somehow found its way through clouds, rain and glass. That place was always bursting with students; it felt odd having it all to herself for once.

‘Stupid people. Filthy, annoying people…shouldn’t be here. None should be here. I shouldn’t be here. Argh, my king, my one true king.’

Maud jumped to the side, startled by the harsh, moaning voice trembling in the air. The Ghost of the Cavalier floated miserably down the corridor, his head bowed down after he had thrown a few disgusted looks at the girl. He was tall and had once been well-built, blessed with a figure worthy of a tragic hero. He was, however, more tragic than a hero. Lord Draben cursed passionately looking out the window, then vanished behind a stone wall, not before grumbling some more in Maud’s direction. His silvery, once fashionable, and elegant robes floated soundlessly in his wake for a few more lingering seconds before disappearing after their master.

Maud dared breathe out a sigh of relief, clasping her now trembling chest in the aftermath of the fright.

The faint noise reached her before the actual words and she jumped once more, turning mid-air, wand at the ready to face whatever it was.

‘Put that thing down, before you take someone’s eye off,’ growled an annoyed Tom, standing smugly in front of her, his hands in his pockets, a look of irritated boredom upon his face. He was half concealed in the shadows, half bathing in the moonlight. Maud lowered her wand, frowning as she took in his appearance, her heart still screaming with the surprise as it had been prepared for Peeves or some other malicious ghost.

Tom usually looked impeccable, not a strand of fabric out of order or a lock of hair standing out. Tonight, however, his shirt was not tucked in his trousers, as conduct required, his tie was rather loose and his jumper rumpled, but somehow, he still managed to look imposing and regal, as though others should be ashamed of their appearance for it did not match his.

‘You shouldn’t sneak up on me,’ she whispered with reproach. Seeing him different from his usual, impeccable self gave her an uneasy feeling, as though she was looking at something she was not meant to see.

‘Yes, I see you are quite dangerous,’ he teased in his most poisonous voice.

She pouted at him as a thought flashed through her mind. She could show him just how dangerous she could be, her wand was still in her hand. One quick duel can go a long way with one’s ego. Just this once. No, she would not let him rile her up like that. She stored her wand in one of her dress-pockets and crossed her arms expectantly, wishing her jumper was fluffier and cosier as a shiver ran down her spine. Outside, a thunder rippled through the sky, chasing away the frozen winds.

‘Are you going to pout at me the whole night?’ He smirked and made one step towards her.

‘No, Merlin no. I don’t want to keep you away from your Slytherin friend,’ she feigned friendly concern over the way he might waste his time, her eyes widening innocently as his hand twitched.

‘Little lion, are you jealous?’ he asked softly, coming closer.

‘Me? Jealous?’ she put her hands down, startled at his sudden movement and confused at his assumption. ‘Why would I be jealous? Because you were talking to someone else?’

She attempted a laugh. It failed.

‘Oh, but you are, you terrible liar. You were jealous because I was talking to another girl.’

He smiled at the word girl, somehow managing to give it a seductive twist.

‘I’m not a liar.’

‘Obviously not.’

‘I didn’t even notice it really,’ she blushed. ‘I was listening to Arthur.’

Tom’s jaw tightened and he took another step, enough to hear her in-take of air.

‘You mean, you were too busy making a fool of yourself with that Arthur.’

Somehow, the light seemed dimmer and the air chillier.

‘I was not!’ her voice was now trembling with anger and she took a step back so she could look him square in the eye.

‘Really? Because from where I was standing, you seemed to be having fun under that table. A different kind of fun.’

There was no more mockery in his tone, just pure accusations.

‘Now who’s jealous?’

Tom’s eyes widened with rage at her.

‘So you don’t deny it, then?’

He stepped closer still and Maud imagined she could hear his blood boil.

‘Why should I waste my time trying to deny something so outrageously stupid?’

‘Is that how you see me? Outrageously stupid?’ His voice was calm and full of promise as a low threat rose from behind his words, cool and calculated as the vows of a killer. Only murder would have been a walk in the park compared to what Tom Riddle was capable of.

‘Is that how I see you?’ she repeated, annoyed. ‘Is that how _you_ see me? Like some frivolous stupid girl who would fool around under the table and would later have the nerve of imputing something to another person? Do you think I am so easily caught in a moment? Easily stolen away by some boy? Some boy who so happens to be my FRIEND! So excuse me for calling you stupid, it is clearly not the word that applies to you. I should’ve said ignorant, self-centred, self-absorbed, self-sufficient, annoying, cruel, jealous—so much so that you would leave me alone in the Hospital wing to go and seek a boost of ego in another girl!’

She never blinked, never wavered in front of him, her eyes always on his as she stood defiantly before him, pain and pride itched in her every feature. To Tom she looked as a child does when having a tantrum, and more. Even as anger and shock coursed through his veins, he couldn’t help but smile inwardly at the way she looked in the spotted moonlight, shadows of rain drops dancing on her loose jumper. When the harsh words rang in his ears, he felt the magic rise inside him, his hand itching for the wand to throw a hex at her, his jaw clenched tightly. What stopped him was the shock of hearing such words. No one had ever dared say such things to him. He even doubted someone was capable of associating such words to him—after all, he had been nothing but a charming, slightly manipulative student ever since his first day, slithering inside everyone’s hearts without so much as a drop of sweat being wasted on the task. What was more, he felt shocked to hear the pain behind those words, the injuries inflicted on her unconsciously. He had never considered she would feel abandoned when he did not return to the Hospital Wing the other day, he had thought only of himself and how he needed to stay away from her, at least a day, take care of his own problems, of his followers, of his fast-changing moods. In all honesty, Tom had took her affections for granted, never considering the preposterous idea that she might lash out at him, that she might take offence so deeply. He had even relished in the feeling of jealously, releasing all his anger and frustration into those moments when she talked to another boy, knowing, however, how ridiculous an idea it was that she might prefer someone else over him. He just liked to keep her attentions to himself, turn her whole existence into a system where he was the sun and she, the orbiting moon.

With these conflicting thoughts and feeling the need to show off his power, his importance to her, he stepped closer, causing her to back away, still defiant, only more self-preserving, until her back hit the wall.

‘You were with your friends,’ he whispered, startling her with his reproachful yet soft tone.

They stared at each other, both trying to understand, to discover each other’s secrets, lies, wishes. One may never come to fully grasp another’s person by simply staring into their eyes, but the two of them tried nonetheless, coming closer and wanting it more than anyone else who might have tried it.

‘And my being jealous shows that I care. Wouldn’t you rather have someone self-absorbed, self-centred, self-sufficient care for you? Because you see, little lion, I have all the reasons to be as you’ve described me for I am powerful, intelligent, charming. Only a fool would ignore such qualities in himself. Why should I hide it? And when I am so accomplished, trust me, I would never settle for a common good. I want only that which is unique, special, magical. Frown and pout as much as you like, but if you’d pay more attention, you would understand that what I am trying to say is that you are what I want, not a mere Slytherin enthusiast. You. And had you asked me to return, I would have done so.’

He brushed her temple and cheek with the tip of his fingers, his breath tickling her skin. He smiled smugly at her, but warmly. Maud pressed her head against the wall, trying to get farther away, if only it were possible. Even though the intention had been good, his speech had left a bitter taste inside her mouth, making her heart cringe away. She pushed him away, hitting him with her small hands when his body would not yield, but press onwards with even more determination.

‘Stop it,’ she said with a trembling voice, her hands still hitting his chest.

‘Why?’ he growled, annoyed at her reaction.

‘Because,’ but she did not know how to continue this.

He put his hands on the wall, caging her in, his eyes furious, but taking her lack of a proper response as an encouragement. As a result, Maud kept on fighting against his chest, all the while being on the verge of reaching for her wand to keep him away.

‘Stop hitting me!’ snapped Tom, his fists digging into the wall.

Her fingers clawed his jumper, but she raised her head to stare at him angrily.

‘What’s wrong with you? I’m trying to compliment you, make you feel better and you!’

‘It felt more like you were complimenting yourself,’ retorted Maud, her hands clutching the fabric tighter.

‘I was not,’ he replied through gritted teeth.

‘What then? What did you really want to tell me?’

Maud’s eyes shined in the shadow he was casting over her. He felt his insides cringe. And then, in the face of another internal battle, he gave up. Sighing, he let whatever words would first come out of his mouth decide for him.

‘I’m sorry,’ he blurted out, defeated, annoyed, spiteful, but genuine. ‘For upsetting you.’

She stared at him in shock, amazed despite the venom she sensed in his words. And she smiled childishly, tightening her grip on his jumper, not knowing how else to express herself.

Upset and eager to forget those shameful words, Tom did the only thing he felt would purge all thoughts from his mind, the only thing he desired in that moment—he kissed her. Almost as if it were an act of cruelty, a weapon to destroy and torture, but he kissed her nonetheless and she let him, as forcefully, and mad, and selfish as he desired. And although it started as a way of conquering, halfway through, when his anger had vanished, it became what it should have always been—an apology. He cupped her cheeks and pulled her away from the wall, enough to leave him space to encircle her waist and keep her there, against his chest, where she should always remain.  


	18. The Duel

Dumbledore smiled at her from behind his desk. There was fondness in his eyes as he watched Maud stare in amazement at the bird in the corner. It was the first time she had laid eyes on Fawkes, her own pseudo phoenix perched on her shoulder. Emryk had grown since she last saw him, but there was no denying he was quite different from Dumbledore’s phoenix. While Fawkes’ feathers were a vivid scarlet, Emryk’s had seemed to not be able to decide between red and jet black, for the tip of his tail looked dipped in ink, and so did his beak, while the rest of him seemed engulfed in a raging fire. Altogether, her phoenix had inherited some of its father’s—or perhaps mother’s, it was hard to tell which had been the actual phoenix in the bird’s family—dark traits. Where Fawkes’ eyes gleamed golden, Emryk’s were pitch black in a way that should make anyone feel uneasy in his vicinity, as though able to suck your soul in without ever releasing it.

‘Truth is a puzzling thing. It can be both reassuring and terrifying. And while I do not wish to lie to you Maud, you must understand that I’d rather not tell you certain things just yet—a decision which, I assure you, I have not made lightly.’

Maud’s head turned towards Dumbledore. He was apologetic and tired, and it was clear from his troubled eyes that it had not been a lightly made decision, indeed.

‘I understand, professor,’ or at least she fooled herself into thinking likewise.

‘Soon, the time will come when you shall know everything.’

He followed her to his door, a reassuring smile ever-present on his lips, however absent from his eyes. He seemed preoccupied as he bid her good night and asked her to take the shortcut to the Gryffindor Tower. It was yet another delay, but Dumbledore insisted as he turned back to the lemon sherbet on his desk that it was for her own good, and not his.

 

‘I don’t know, Malfoy, it is not my place to question him. And neither is yours, for that matter. Now, now, don’t turn all beasty on me—you know the rules.’

Alphard Black smiled playfully at Malfoy who looked on the brink of exploding, his face red despite his pale complexion, his eyes twice their normal size. Black patted the blond boy’s cheek in mock affection.

‘Don’t. Touch. Me,’ spat Malfoy, jerking his head away, his nose sticking up smugly.

‘All right, highness. Just remember. No matter how much that Gryffindor steps on your toes, don’t act. Or he’ll have your pretty blonde head on a silver platter, not even gold.’

Maud watched the two Slytherins wide-eyed. She remembered the tall, dark-haired one from the forest, while the blonde one had always seemed to be the centre of a Slytherin gang picking on others, Gryffindors mainly. She had occasionally caught him exchanging snarky remarks with Arthur or annoying Tilda on corridors. Deciding to take a detour to the library rather than interrupt their argument, Maud turned as silently as she could, wishing her hands would stop shaking on the books she was hugging to her chest.

‘Oy, pony tail, where’d you think you’re going? Didn’t mum teach you it’s not nice to listen up on others?’

Black had stepped away from Malfoy and was now running his fingers through his perfectly combed black hair while smiling dashingly at Maud’s back.

‘I was not eavesdropping on you, which is why I was turning around, so you two lovebirds may have the corridor to yourselves.’

She had turned to throw them a cold, annoyed look. If they were willing to follow Tom even when that implied occasionally humiliating or torturing other students, Maud knew they could not be nice people.

‘How dare you brat!’ spat Malfoy stepping closer, his fingers going for his wand.

And then something inside Black’s mind clicked as he widened his eyes, a grin spreading across his face.

‘You,’ he said, excitement sparkling in his eyes.

‘No, Merlin,’ she replied rolling her eyes despite the drops of sweat tingling down her spine. She tensed up as she watched Malfoy go for his wand, subtle as a troll, all the while visualizing how fast she could take out her own. There was something about that blonde boy that put her off more than Black’s attitude. He seemed too proud, held himself too tall and noble, to not jump at any offence, act rashly out of spite and ask questions later. She should really leave.

‘Little cat has found her courage again, now that she seems to have escaped curiosity’s death penalty,’ Black chuckled, stretching his arm to hold Malfoy off in case he decided to do anything stupid. ‘Let’s go, love. Haven’t you heard? We have this whole corridor to ourselves.’

His grin widened as he saw the puzzled look on Maud’s face before he turned around and took Malfoy by the arm, despite the boy’s protests and curses. Deciding she didn’t care all that much about what those two were up to, Maud turned on her heels and sprinted towards the library, not stopping until she had reached it.

It wasn’t that she had been afraid of them, she was sure she could have taken them down—or so she hoped, if need be—, but seeing two of Tom’s followers brought back to her the hateful night of her cowardice, and the more pressing problem of what Tom was really up to, which also weighed down on her conscience, for she ought to be more involved in the matter.

She shoved her concerns at the back of her mind, clinging to whatever blissfulness was left of her ignorance before it turned sour. In these past weeks, Maud had turned more than ever into a bookworm, feeling so stupid for not knowing what Halloween or dating was, that she was determined to excel, at least, at doing magic—which seemed to mattered most at Hogwarts. In fact, it was more of an excuse to escape the growing feeling of inevitability that had sprung inside her, which not even Charlie and Arthur had managed to pry away from her. Reading books—any books— helped. That is, until the events of Halloween, after which Tom had developed the habit of visiting the library as often as he could, and always when she was there. She didn’t really mind, but it rendered the entire escaping idea null, because their confusing relationship only fuelled the uneasy feeling she was experiencing. Also, being around Tom was, as Maud had found out from Tilda, far from normality. In the picture Tilda had painted for Maud, Tom was this kind of untouchable god, loved and envied by all, and so high above their world that the simple act of being associated with him propelled the lucky soul into the sphere of things people stare at. And Maud hated that, especially since she seemed to trip over invisible things more often when she was being watched by strangers.

However, it could not be helped. Ever since he had apologized to her, Tom’s behaviour towards her had changed slightly, in that it became more strange and confusing. He no longer seemed content with just staring her down during dinner, or teasing her during Potions and merely sharing a desk with her during the other classes, not really caring for her whereabouts—at least apparently—the rest of the time. That odd apology had somehow made him more aware of her existence, even more possessive. It did not mean he shared more things with her, or that he was more gentle and affectionate—no. But he found himself in her presence more often; walking down from classes, where he either sat alone or with her, and now in the library, where he’d arrive few minutes after her and sit down at the same table, reading some strange book and ignoring her most of the time. As winter break approached, this had become their ritual.

That day, however, Maud was late and Tom had already taken his seat at one of the tables near the fireplace. She usually preferred to stay by the window, but the weather was so cold now that she shivered at the thought of being anywhere near the stone walls. He seemed annoyed by her tardiness and was skimming through a dark, leather bound book. His pale, long fingers stood out on the black covers, gripping the book tighter when Maud sat down across from him.

He cocked an eyebrow at her, as though to point out the fact that she was late, but the matter was not worth wasting his words. Maud stared at him, the words on her mouth but undecided whether she should let them out.

‘Are you going to say what’s on your mind or are you planning to stare at me until it’s all magically conveyed to me?’

His voice was low and neutral, his eyes never leaving the book. It sent a shiver down Maud’s spine.

‘Do Black and that boy…Malfoy, I think, fancy each other?’

That was not what she had wanted to ask, but it made Tom put his book down and look at her in amusement. He chuckled. He was about to reply with one of his snippy remarks when a thought crossing his mind stopped his tongue, his eyes now dark and foreboding.

‘Why?’ he asked instead, his amusement guarded by an unspoken threat.

‘Just asking,’ Maud blushed, knowing very well she was a terrible liar. She was unsure whether or not she should tell him about the encounter with the two.

‘Maud,’ he growled, putting down his book and leaning over the table, ‘you are a dreadful liar. Spit it out.’

She was about to tell him, but his commanding voice made her change her mind.

‘No. Stop bossing me around,’ she snapped, crossing her arms on her chest and turning her head in defiance.

Tom’s eyebrows shot upwards in disbelief.

‘Really?’

She barely heard him get up, but the next moment his hand had grabbed her chin and forced her head to turn.

‘What is it with you and physical violence? Let me go!’

She grabbed his hand and squeezed as hard as she could, thinking of all the times he had bruised her wrist.

‘Get a hold of your temper, Tom.’

Maud stared him in the eye, both of them unwilling to give in to the other.

‘As soon as you’ve stopped lying to me.’

‘Well, if you haven’t bullied me, I would’ve told you the truth. So let go, or I’ll…’

‘You’ll what?’ snapped Tom, not liking being spoken to so.

‘I’ll…I’ll stop talking to you at all!’

She had the determination of a child as she replied to him. Tom chuckled and let go, his fingers lingering a while longer on her jaw.

‘I wouldn’t want that now, would I?’ he asked mockingly, as though he was doing her a favour for giving in to her childish demands, seemingly not wanting to upset her by making her carry out her threat.

He sat down next to her, facing her with an unreadable expression.

‘Can you be more short-tempered than that?’

‘I will repeat the question: _Why_?’ He really didn’t like being kept waiting and having to ask the same question twice.

‘I don’t know…it was just an impression. I bumped into them on a deserted corridor on my way here.’

She shrugged, but turned to look at Tom. There was something still bothering her about that scene. Tom frowned, his eyes as piercing as Dumbledore’s. He was displeased.

‘Did they do anything?’

‘No. They were just talking…or bickering like an old married couple. Malfoy seemed a bit jumpy though.’

Their eyes were locked. Maud’s heart quivered for a second before she sighed, bracing herself. She should do it. She should ask him.

‘What?’

Tom sensed something changing in her attitude.

‘Will you be honest with me if I asked you a question?’

She looked at him hopeful against all odds, knowing all too well how good a liar Tom was. If he chose to, he could answer her question with a fat lie and she wouldn’t know.  He didn’t answer her, but his whole body tensed, waiting for her question.

‘That day in the forest…your followers or gang or whatever…What are you up to?’

‘Why do you ask?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’

‘No,’ there wasn’t one shred of emotion in his voice, or his entire demeanour.

‘I care…and I’m worried you’ll do something stupid, and bad.’

It was hard to watch him like that—a block of ice, unmoved, unfeeling, staring right back at her as though he was trying to figure out her angle.

‘I don’t do stupid things,’ he retorted finally, reaching for his book.

‘Yes, you do. Like that time in the forest. And they’re also bad things.’

He stopped mid-motion and turned his head to give her a warning look. The black in his eyes was cold, deep and unwelcoming, hiding all the things Tom would probably never share with her. Not willingly, at least. Maud got up from her chair, leaving her heart sunken behind her. She had expected the no-answer part, but his look sent shivers through her every pore, bringing with them the realisation that that was the real Tom Riddle.

‘Fine,’ she whispered trembling with anger and pain. ‘I get it.’

She turned to walk away, but he caught her hand at the last minute and the sudden contact made her jump.

‘You keep secrets too, yet I’ve never pestered you about them,’ he whispered resentful, keeping her there, but not turning to look at her.

‘You needed only ask and there would have been no more secrets from my part.’

Her own words surprised her. For one, she had always assumed Tom had already figured things out, which is way she never considered the idea that there might still be things hidden inside her mind. Two, if there were secrets she kept from him, the fact that she so hastily offered to impart with them worried her, yet she knew it was the truth. Because she wanted to trust him and vice versa.

Tom tightened his grip, but not too much that he should bruise her.

‘You don’t want to know, trust me.’

‘Yes, I do.’

Suddenly, he stood up, towering over her with a menacing glint in his eyes.

‘No,’ he hissed.

‘Well, there you have it then. If you know so well what I want and don’t want, then predict what I want to do right now.’

Tom smirked at her.

‘Say you’re sorry for bringing it up and ask me to put this useless conversation behind us?’

Maud laughed and the sound was filled with tension.

‘No, leave. I want to leave!’

She pulled her hand away from his and stormed out of the library. Tom followed her, his anger and astonishment looming over her like a dark, suffocating shadow.

‘Stop acting up!’ he growled, striding in front of her and then stopping to block her way.

‘You’re one to talk,’ her frustration was growing with every second.

‘Maud, everybody has their secrets,’ he was struggling with his own anger. ‘I will tell you, just not when you want to.’

There was a warning in his eyes as she opened her mouth to say something else. His patience and will to resist against the urge to hex her was running thin. And she felt guilty. She knew that he was hiding something important, but at the same time she understood the desire to keep it tucked away, however it might hurt her to admit it. And despite everything she had seen in those past months, she still liked him, which is why she wanted to selfishly ignore that impending feeling in her chest a while longer. But she had her pride too and giving in to Tom was not something she was eager to do.

Tom took advantage of her silence and brushed the side of her temple with his cold fingertips. She smiled weakly for a second and cupped his cheek, letting him lean against her hand and close his eyes as he inhaled her scent. Maud shuddered seeing his expression of content and backed away, turning on her heels and leaving as fast as she could, knowing that if she stayed one more second he would have said something to make her cave in and abandon everything. She didn’t know if she heard or sense his growl of displeasure, but she did not turn around until she was standing in front of the Fat Lady, mumbling the password.

She dodged the stream of enthusiastic Gryffindors, pouring out on their way to the Quidditch pitch. Struggling against the current, she managed to cling to the door handle leading to the Girls’ Dormitory, when a booming voice crashed in her ears. It was a lion’s roar, coming from an enchanted banner which flared with scarlet and gold. Maud decided to hide in her own room until the stream of supporters died out. She supposed all her friends had already left, to play and cheer for each other.

Sighing against the door, she closed her eyes as the urge to bang her head on something hard twisted its way into her heart. Emryk flapped his wings to get the girl’s attention, perched on one of the bed’s posters.

‘I know…you’re bored,’ she said turning around, a smile struggling to form on her lips for the sake of her feathered friend.

Emryk cocked his head and flapped his wings once more.

‘Just wait a bit, ‘til they’re gone and then I’ll smuggle you to the boathouse to stretch your wings, ok? I can’t let you out today, they’re playing Quidditch. You could get hit by a bludger.’

The bird leaped down gracefully, gliding towards the floor like an over-sized flaming feather. He stretched his neck and pecked her leg gently. She leaned down and stroke his feathers, her ears twitching impatience.

‘I think they’re gone,’ she whispered, opening the door slowly.

Emryk jumped in her arms obediently, though there was a strange glint in his eyes, almost as if he despised the idea of being carried. But Maud did not pay attention, her ears straining to catch even the faintest of sounds, not wanting to have to explain Emryk’s existence to anyone. She tip-toed down the stairs and into the deserted common room. Throwing one last precautionary glance at her surroundings, she sprinted towards the passageway.

The Fat Lady had gawked at the restless creature Maud was carrying in her arms, folded in a cloak. She cried after her, wanting to get a better look, but was completely ignored and therefore mumbled displeased at the lack of courtesy shown to the elders. Maud, however, was too afraid of being stopped, the caretaker’s words still ringing in her ears as she imagined seeing Emryk being roasted by Peeves. She rushed down corridors and through hidden passageways, keeping in the shadows and freezing at every sound, all the while struggling to keep Emryk safely tucked between her arms.

A few times, the sound of rushed footsteps had her pinned to a wall, behind a suit of armour or a statue as she waited with panic in her hearts for the dreadful rhythm to die out. But no one ever came in her way, not even a ghost and, eventually, she reached the boathouse panting. Once there, she crashed onto the floor, her hands letting go of Emryk who flew away instantaneously.

‘Here again, ey? And here was poor man thinking he had finally attained the peace of mind required for poetry. One lost heart per boathouse, wouldn’t you agree?’

Percival Pratt propped his head on his hand, gazing dreamily from behind his desk.

‘Leave me alone,’ she was too tired for his poetic gibberish.

‘Leave? Leave you alone? My dear girl, it is not I who came second into this world. I was both born and dead before your whiny eyes could even fathom the majesty of life. If isolation you seek, I suggest you do so someplace else.

But Maud merely sighed, hugging her feet to her chest, unable to find the desire to respond.

‘Unbelievable! The nerve on some people! This is not the proper behaviour expected from a girl! A young woman even!’

The poet continued to mumble, rising from his chair to pace from one frame to the other, gesticulating with fervour. Maud suspected he had divagated from proper conduct to something more to his liking, such as the ordeals of a dead poet. After a while, annoyed with his constant muttering, she turned and stared at him, trying hard not to lash out at the portrait and forcefully shut his mouth. Percival Pratt had sensed the animosity perhaps, for he stopped pacing and stared right back at her, his eyebrows frowning in discontentment.

‘If my talking bothers your gentle ears, little girl, there is nothing stopping you from leaving. In fact, do please go.’

He scowled at her, crossing his arms in as pompous a manner as possible, his nose raised to the ceiling.

‘Will you shut it?!’

She was on her feet, her wand in hand, trembling.

‘Very mature,’ spat Percival Pratt, his voice faltering at the end.

‘Just go!’ she growled, desperate as she pointed her wand at the painting.

The poet weighed the situation with his eyes, and then disappeared in a flurry of robes, muttering about lack of respect and madness. Emryk came down from one of the beams supporting the roof, his eyes apprehensive.

‘What?’ she whispered, but the venom had vanished from her voice, her wand now tucked away.

Emryk let out a sound resembling a reproach and flew away once again, seemingly disappointed in her.

‘I know,’ she sighed, already feeling bad for snapping at the portrait.

‘You again,’ Rancorous Carpe had just emerged from behind Pratt’s painting. He no longer had the staff she had seen him with a few weeks ago, but was still walking rather stiffly, as though his bones ached at every moved and threatened to crumble under his weight at any moment.

‘When that pompous goblin-head of Pratt told me there’s a violent student in the Boathouse, you was not what I expected.’

Maud’s cheeks reddened. Guilt eating bits of her composure already.

‘I’m sorry, sir,’ she whispered.

‘What for?’ he dragged a chair forgotten near the wall towards where she was standing, and sat down with a heavy sigh. ‘Neah, d’you know, I can’t stand that lad. Always moaning after a long since dead lass, he himself too full o’ vanity to not leave himself hanging in a portrait so he could whine rhymes at others.’

Maud hesitated before summoning a chair for herself.

‘But I didn’t see you for the violent type, lass. Must’ve really pissed you.’

He rubbed his eyes and yawned.

‘Not really,’ admitted Maud, blushing furiously. ‘I was already upset and was rude to him...’

Carpe frowned at her, but something red flying above caught his attention. He grinned at Emryk.

‘See you took your birdie for a stroll…’ he was thoughtful as he said it, as though something kept bothering him. ‘Why were you upset? If you don’t mind my asking, just entertain an old man’s curiosity. I’ve not much to look forward to…’

Maud looked at the caretaker wide-eyed with surprise. She was seeing him for the first time, properly, as he truly was— as a man with no more hope, no more expectations, just a patient pain that seemed to grow with every step, taking him closer to death. He was resigned and if there was one more wish inside him, it was the desire to have just one last thing, one last reason to fight for. He was closer to a shadow, a ghost, than to a man of flesh and bone.

‘I don’t mind at all, just don’t laugh,’ she whispered, her heart aching at the sight of healthy yet still dying man.

‘No, little girl, I won’t.’

‘I am lost and I hate it. I hate being confused, wandering around not knowing what I ought to do. It drives me mad and I lashed out…’

There was no sound apart from the rustle of little waves clashing against the stone and Emryk’s wings flapping in the air. Somewhere in the distance, behind the Quidditch pitch, behind the tall, dark trees of the forest, the sun was melting in the warm shades of red, orange and purple, bleeding its last colours onto the darkening sky.

‘When you say lost, what do you mean, exactly? I’m not that dead poet, don’t smother me with fancy notions. Speak plain, don’t hide behind the words.

Maud frowned, trying to figure out what she was really feeling. She crossed her legs on the chair, facing the caretaker whose eyes awaited avidly her response.

‘Well, have you ever found yourself not knowing what was right and wrong? Because I don’t know what I ought to do, what is the right thing to do. I know what I want, but that thing which I suppose is my conscious nags me constantly. So I suppose…what I want is the wrong thing and I ought to choose the other. But I don’t want to. And…I think that makes me a bad person.’

‘No, lass. That just makes you a person.’

Rancorous Carpe screwed his face in displeasure as he smacked his lips to get rid of a nasty taste.

‘I’m no philosopher an’ all, maybe you should’ve talked with that professor Dumbledore, but I reckon life’s taught me a thing or two. The thing is lass, there’s the world’s view on right and wrong and then there’s everyone’s personal, more secret take on the matter. And…argh, bloody hell, I’m no good with words, but I’ll try for you, lass. And most of the times, our idea of right and wrong doesn’t fit with the general accepted view, so we make compromises. But I think that when it concerns just you, then there’s no other person other than you who knows what is right and wrong—so long as what you decide affects only you. Then you can do whatever you please. But if your idea of right hurts another ‘un, then, lass, that is not right. And I mean hurt in the most serious ways; who gives a damn if you take the last scone and the lass next to you is upset. Those are little things. But I think you get my point.’

Maud sulked. She had kind of guessed all that stuff already, but it only confirmed to her the fact that she was acting selfish by ignoring all those troublesome facts about Tom.

‘Now, I see you don’t like my answer. I suppose it was not what you wanted to hear? I don’t think you’re an immoral lass, so what’s it all about, really? What’s really bothering you so much that you’d ignore common sense? At your age…I’d say…love, innit?’

Maud blushed, opened her mouth to protest and closed it again, her eyes falling on her knees.

‘So it is…’

The caretaker howled and she supposed it was meant as a laugh.

‘Sir…is it wrong to care for a bad person?’

The man fell silent for a few moments. When Maud looked up at his face, his eyes were unusually glassy. He coughed, scratching his temple as he considered her question.

‘No, I don’t think so, little girl. Love…caring…is good, it can’t be bad. D’you know, many would say that people make foolish things out of love. Some would even say it makes us weak. Now, some people, when they love someone bad, they tend to overlook the nasty things about them—I suppose that’s why they say love is blind, or foolish— or they fool themselves that people can change, that they can become better. That their love can make them better. No, listen me, girl. I’m not saying their wrong or right. I don’t make the mistake of thinking I know much, just enough. The way I see it, even monsters need to be loved. Not anyone could do it, and I’m not saying they deserve it, or that it can change them, but I suppose it’s how the world works. And if loving a monster, a bad person, or whatever, can change them even the slightest, if there’s this possibility, perhaps it’s worth a shot? I don’t know, lass. These things are so complicated sometimes…’

He gazed at his old hands, his frail veins visible through the almost translucent skin, quivering with the years gone. He seemed to reminisce about the things those hands had touched, had felt and bore, forgetting about Maud for a moment. The caretaker felt older than ever.

‘But I really hope the person you care for is not bad…those things never end well,’ he smiled bitterly and gestured for her to get up. Maud listened to him confused.

‘You need to get that bird of yours back before the match ends. Let him fly to your window, better. It’s dark enough outside so he won’t be noticed.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, smiling at the tired man. ‘Really, thank you, sir.’

‘You’re welcome, little girl. Now go!’

She was one floor away from the Gryffindor Tower, running to open the window for Emryk when a voice coming from the shadows almost gave her a heart-attack.

‘So I see running away from people is your new hobby.’

Tom was leaning against the wall, impassive. Maud ignored him and kept on going, intent on reaching her destination.

‘Oh, so you were serious when you threatened not to talk to me anymore.’

She could hear it in his voice that he was not in a good mood. Well, she said to herself, tough luck, neither am I. If that was his idea of getting on her good side again, by stalking her and throwing nasty remarks at her, he was in for a major disappointment. She turned left on the next corridor to take the shortcut.

‘Maud,’ he threatened. ‘Do not try me.’

Still, she ignored him, hell bent on not giving in to him for once.

‘LOOK AT ME!’ he snapped, grabbing her arm and pulling so hard she almost fell.

There are moments when time seems to stop, when the seconds stretch abnormally long, without any apparent cause. Moments when the entire world quiets and listens to the heartbeat, the rustling air bathing in the light, or the clouds passing unnoticed above bowed heads and broken limbs. And during such precious, rare times, one is both at peace and in turmoil, for one can feel oneself unhindered by anything else, and hidden thoughts and repressed emotions flow, for the briefest of seconds back, raging and soothing the bothered mind.

Maud gasped as air seemed to slip away from her for a moment, and a most dreadful feeling of  déjà vu crawled into her heart. Tom’s heart seemed to burn as a woman’s distant, heart-shattering scream filled her ears. Not turning to look him in the eye she whispered a calm ‘ _let me go’_.

‘Look. At. Me!’ hissed Tom, gripping tighter.

Perhaps if he had expected it, Tom would have seen the rapid hand movement and would have blocked it. But as he had never even considered the possibility of such an action, Maud’s slap hit him forcefully, leaving a stinging red mark on his cheek. Stunned, he widened his eyes at her, rage filling them slowly.

‘I said let me go!’ she pulled her hand out of his grip and turned on her heels.

‘How dare you!’ Tom’s menacing voice had ringed dangerously close. She took out her wand and gripped it tightly, her senses scanning for the faintest sign. She heard him on her left, but before he could touch her once more she stopped and raised her wand at him, facing him with determination. Maud could see the shock on his face, as well as his rage, boiling just beneath the surface.

‘Don’t you ever dare touch me like that again!’ she roared, her wand pointing threateningly at his face.

‘You fool,’ spat Tom, losing the last shred of temper as he drew his wand so fast Maud could barely see it.

The light had only just left the tip of his wand when Maud sent her own spell which crashed in his face, blocked at the last minute.

‘NO!’ she yelled, sending curse after curse, not giving him enough time to attack her properly, too busy blocking them.

‘Who do you bloody think you are!’ she screamed, sending a flaming fiendfyre lion at him which he engulfed in a ball of air, collapsing it in on itself with a wave of his wand.

‘You really don’t want to go there,’ he growled, flicking his wand and sending her flying against a wall. But she jumped to her feet instantaneously.

‘Expelliarmus!’ she yelled before he could register her quick recovery, sending his wand flying. She let it fall on the floor and sent another curse which he dodged with unusual agility.

‘What gives you the right—how can you be so selfish and full of yourself to respond so brutally when someone doesn’t oblige you! ARGH!’

He was now two steps away from her. His eyes were alight with rage and cruelty, so much that they seemed less human by the second, glinting red as a menacing smile curled up his lips. He raised his hand, but just as he summoned his wand from the ground, Maud had launched herself at him, delivering another slap, this time leaving red marks on his cheeks.

‘I am sick and tired of you pulling and pushing me, bossing me around as though I were your pet. I AM NOT! IF I DON’T WANT TO BLOODY TALK TO YOU, I WON’T!’

She kicked him in the leg, making Tom yell an inhuman sound which stopped her mid motion as she was about to hit him one more time with her fist.

‘If you want to remain alive, run. RUN!’ 

There was a murderous look in his eyes as he fought to not raise his wand which had returned to him. Maud took one step back, straightened her back and raised her head defiantly.

‘Maud,’ he threatened once more.

The corridor reeked of magic. Somewhere downstairs cheerful voices were flowing back into the castle. Maud turned around, but did not run. She walked calmly, her muscles tensed in anticipation of the curse that failed to part with Tom’s wand, raised and trembling with rage. There was one word in his head, one word only as he watched her walk away, fearlessly. One word to put her back in her place. If he hadn’t been so shocked with her reaction, he would have pronounced it from the very beginning and would not have stopped until pain had burst out of her body. But she had caught him off guard, and as Maud’s form vanished behind a wall, Tom yelled and dug his fist into the stone, again and again, until his magic had blackened the spot entirely.

Maud couldn’t remember how she got back to the Gryffindor Tower, how she passed the Fat Lady and somehow managed to evade the growing numbers of Quidditch supporters dressed in scarlet and gold. She didn’t even understand how her hand found its way to the latch that sealed the window in her room, letting in an annoyed and quite noisy Emryk. All she could hear was the blood pumping in her ears, numbing out everything else surrounding her. At first, the rage had almost blinded out the stabbing pain in her back, where she suspected bruises were growing a violent shades of purple and red. But now, as the anger ebbed away, making way for the emotional pain, the adrenaline had started to vanish too, leaving her body trembling and powerless. She was lucky in a way that all she could focus on was that dull, constant pressure on her chest, reminding her of the familiar, unpleasant feeling that had rose in her earlier and still lingered on her skin, burning. She felt it climb up her arteries, forcing its way up to her throat, but she choked on the sobs, fighting with gritted teeth to keep them down. Apart from that, she fooled herself into thinking that she sensed nothing. And, in a way, the nagging feeling of not quite forgotten memories was over-powering enough that she should ignore anything else.

She rocked back and forth on her bed, the lights surrounding her fading away into the black nothingness of the night as she oscillated between pain, fear, and anger. The constant throbbing in her head had finally grown to an unbearable intensity when she collapsed on her back, slipping into an even more unforgiving dream.

The next day, she forced everything down, deep inside and put on a kind, if not vacant, smile on her face. She guessed what other people were saying to her and she did her very best to seem active, present, in any way possible, but the stinging on her arms and back was still there with her, and so was the unpleasant sensation that something had been forced down her throat, to be buried somewhere in the pits of her stomach in hope it would never surface again. While she dug her spoon in the sea of cereal in front of her, she wondered at her own stupidity. Yesterday had not been the first time Tom had grabbed her so forcefully, bullying her into a response, yet this time something had been different, otherwise she couldn’t understand why it had bothered her more than before, as though it had stirred something not meant to be touched, concealed in the shadows of what she assumed she had once been.

Maud’s entire being focused that day and the next on each class, receiving more points than ever for her house and performing beyond everyone’s expectation in every subject. Magic had become her only solace. She ignored Tom and, although he sat next to her as usual, he did not try to interact with her, keeping his distance and leaving her alone in the library for the first time in weeks. But Maud had no time to spare on thinking about him. More than ever before, she felt the need to know what had been forced away from her mind. She needed to know what it was she had left behind, who she was, or had been, because she doubted she was still that person who had once animated the body she was now dragging along corridors, wincing in pain at any sudden movement. Duelling on the halls with Tom Riddle had been the least intelligent thing she had done so far. Even though she remembered delivering more blows than she had received, she seemed to be in more pain than he. In fact, Tom acted as usual, apart from the distance he maintained, almost as though he was afraid to come too near and trigger something inside her again.

A week had passed this way, leaving just a few more days before the winter break, and she was nowhere near finding out something new about what had happened to her. She had already suspected a powerful memory charm had been placed on her, but the books in the library offered no further clues as to who could have done it, or why, apart from the fact that the person responsible had to be pretty powerful, since Dumbledore’s Legilimency could not retrieve anything from her mind—anything useful that is. It had been a clean job, leaving no untied knots behind to lead her to the author. Maud considered herself lucky, at least, that the charm had not left her permanently damaged, as it could have, had it been too powerful, or the caster too inexperienced. Even so, all that research made her feel more powerless, and therefore more frustrated, because memories and operating magic on the brain seemed such a tricky process, one could almost never be certain of the effect. Had her memories been merely supressed? Could she, in fact recover them as it said in one book? Or had they been properly removed from her, so she would never access them again? Then what was with the reaction she had when Tom grabbed her that last time? A shadow of a once remembered sensation? Perhaps her body still remembered some things… She shuddered. If physical violence is what it remembered, she’d rather not have the memories at all. This is why she never went to question Dumbledore about what he so obviously refused to share. If he was hesitant, there must be a good reason for it.

Maud cursed herself bitterly. She was still a coward, there was no denying. However, wouldn’t everybody feel the same way? After catching that glimpse of utter dread trembling through their skin? She was not stupid, although perhaps there was no excuse for her slowness. Her skin remembered being grabbed forcefully. It remembered the familiar feeling of raw flesh, bruised and screaming red. Her fight with Tom had jogged the remnants of her memories, at least partly—of that she was certain.

‘Alright Maud, spit it out. What’s the matter?’

‘Hm?’ Maud lift her gaze from her untouched lemon pudding, staring quizzically at the girl opposite her. Tilda had dropped her spoon and crossed her arms, pouting at her.

‘Arthur stopped me from asking before, but you’ve obviously not been yourself this past week. What’s the matter? You seem…elsewhere.’

Arthur elbowed Tilda, frowning disapprovingly.

‘What? You know you’ve been asking yourself the same thing.’

Maud shrugged, not knowing what to answer.

‘Is it about—’ but Arthur elbowed her again, cutting her off. Tilda scowled at him and continued her sentence despite the warning in his eyes. ‘—about you-know-who?’

‘What? No!’

But the colour had drained from her cheeks and Tilda looked over her shoulder at the Slytherin table. Tom was eating slowly, his eyes boring into Tilda the moment he sensed her staring at him. She blushed and turned away quickly.

‘Don’t be silly, Tilda,’ added Arthur helping himself with some pie. ‘It’s probably because of the winter break, isn’t it Maud? I saw your name on the list of people staying during the holidays.’

Maud frowned, but nodded, a grateful twinkle in her eyes as she smiled shyly at him.

‘Oh. Didn’t your family invite you over?’ Tilda’s words stirred something in Maud. She forced a wide, fake smile on her lips and a casual shrug.

‘I really can’t wait to see Hogwarts at Christmas.’

She meant it as a justification.

Arthur coughed and changed the subject quickly, talking about all the packing he had failed to do considering that there were only a few days left. Tilda, however, had already finished her baggage. It seemed most of Maud’s friends were leaving for the holidays. She smiled and acted as though she was excited for them, but deep down she writhed in her own bitterness. Christmas announced itself as a painful affair already. Slughorn had invited her to his party, mostly due to her apparent family connection to Dumbledore, but she was unsure of whether or not she should go. Dumbledore himself had advised her one day after Transfiguration to take advantage of this opportunity and have some fun.

The last day before the holidays dragged on painfully slow in Potions. Everyone was too excited to pay any attention to what Slughorn was saying, and almost no one had enough energy to invest in a decent potion. No one, except her and Tom, who had not said a word since the incident on the corridor. Maud was not complaining. She could feel something changing in him, but she lacked the patience for it or the willingness. She was done making up excuses for him. This time, he would have to come up with the apologies  himself.

‘Alright, little girl, what has happened between you two?’

Alphard’s voice reached her just as she was placing one foot on the staircase. She was returning to the Gryffindor Tower from dinner and her ears were still ringing with the excitement of the Great Hall. She was sad and envious.

‘Sorry?’

She turned slowly, not really minding being stopped. What else had she to do? Stare at the books she had borrowed from the library, all telling her she was a lost cause and she’d better thank her stars for it?

‘You know what I’m talking about, little—’

‘Stop calling me little girl! I have a name, you know,’ she crossed her arms, frowning.

‘Well then,’ he climbed the stairs to where she was standing, chuckling, ‘what is your name, Gryffindor?’

‘Maud,’ she whispered, extending her arm.

‘Well, Maud, I’m Alphard,’ the boy grinned, flashing his teeth at her as he shook her hand. ‘Now stop changing the subject and answer my question.’

She started climbing the stairs slowly, frowning at her shoes.

‘Nothing happened.’

‘Yes, and perhaps if I were a trusty, gullible little Hufflepuff, I would believe you. But since I’m not, feel free to tell the truth at any moment now.’

His words were pushy and full of eagerness and curiosity, yet there was no real malice in them, no real wish to extort the information from her. Maybe he already knew and he was merely trying to convey a message to her—subtext. Either way, he seemed to be enjoying himself, but not in the typical Slytherin way. More in the typical boyish way.

‘Why do you ask?’

‘Hm…well, my boyfriend—as you so kindly named Abraxas a few days ago—and I like to think we are quite close to him. So you see, it is only natural for us to observe when his mood takes a turn, especially since we are always so close to the fire. The idea is, since last week he’s been acting strange, differently…’

Alphard paused for a moment, the amusement flickering away from his eyes for a few seconds. He seemed wary of his surroundings, as though every shadow hid a spying ear.

‘What’s that got to do with me?’

‘Let’s not play dumb, Maud. The only other time he’s acted weird was in the forest, that time,’ he grinned, the memory of that night bringing back pleasure in his eyes. Maud fumbled with her robes uncomfortably.

‘So?’

‘So?’ he laughed. ‘We both know you are the reason. The thing is, however, this time is different. He’s…distanced himself in a way.’

Alphard obviously struggled to find the right ways to describe something Maud suspected he had no permission to detail.

‘Why don’t you say his name? Why do you always refer to him as _he_?’

The boy laughed, brushing a stray strand out of his face. Maud looked at him more closely. He was tall, yet not as tall as Tom. His body was well built and he held himself with the kind of pride one can only inherit. Even his clothes hinted at some kind of nobility as he carried himself with such elegance. Maud felt silly for ever assuming that all Slytherins were the same. Because, while there was a kind of familiar air about him, reminding her of Tom in a way, he was less imposing, less domineering. She imagined Alphard Black was the kind of person who would have just as easily fit into Gryffindor, had he not been a predetermined Slytherin, sorted into the house by default of his name. The name Black had sprung up in several books she had read, all hinting at the long lineage of Slytherins, all promising the same future. It seemed Alphard’s heritage more than his choice, but he didn’t look bothered at all.

‘He doesn’t like it,’ he shrugged after a while.

‘Why?’

He cocked an eyebrow at her.

‘Right, so he doesn’t share things even with you…’

They had reached the Fat Lady’s portrait.

‘Well then,’ he put his hands in his pockets, looking bored once more. ‘What happened?’

‘Perhaps you should ask him.’

He laughed briefly, a hint of terror creeping behind his eyes as he imagined that scenario.

‘I’d rather you told me.’

‘I’d rather not. Now, if you’ll excuse me—’

She pushed past him, toward the portrait

‘Alright then, some other time…See you later, Maud.’

He grinned and turned on his heels. Maud wondered if he meant to say he’ll stay here over the holidays. She brushed the mental question aside, not caring enough to search for an answer. Tomorrow morning, the Hogwarts express will carry the over-excited students to their families, and she’ll be left behind.

Tilda burst through the door the next morning, looking hurried, but determined. Maud was just about to go down for breakfast.

‘What’s happened?’ she asked wide-eyed.

‘Early Christmas present, I thought you might need it…’ she smiled at her, holding out a golden box with a big, red bow.

The blonde beamed at her as she opened it carefully, eyeing her way too excited friend suspiciously.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Just take it out!’

Tilda jumped in front of her, clapping her hands excitedly as Maud pulled out a beautiful red dress, stunning in its simplicity.

‘It’s….gorgeous!’ she gasped.

‘I know you’ve received an invitation to Slughorn’s Christmas party and I also know you didn’t really plan on going…but, please, do go!’

She grabbed her hands which were still holding the fabric and squeezed lightly, her eyes sparkling at her, pleading. Maud laughed and hugged her.

‘Thank you!’ she whispered, not really knowing what she ought to do.

‘So you’ll go?’

‘If you tell me why it matters so much to you.’

Tilda blushed, avoiding her eyes.

‘I just think…I think you should have some fun at least, if you’re staying here over the holidays.’

‘Alright,’ said Maud simply, feeling overwhelmed by her gesture. It was her first Christmas present. She hugged Tilda more tightly, not knowing how else to thank her for her concern, her thoughtfulness, her friendship.

‘I’d better go,’ whispered Tilda, a wide, blinding smile spread across her face.

‘Merry Christmas, Maud.’

‘Merry Christmas to you too, Tilda.’

The girl dashed out of the room, jumping in satisfaction.  

Maud put the box on the bed, staring at the soft, warm fabric. Outside, large snowflakes danced in the grey air, covering the ground with their crisp whiteness. Somewhere in the distance, the black figure of the caretaker was motioning towards a dozen fir trees, huge and blazing green against the frozen earth as he beckoned them with his wand towards the castle.  

The smell of pastry and roast, hot chocolate and cinnamon wafted through the walls. Even in the Tower, the distant crystal like voices hummed peacefully, filling the castle with the sound of holidays. She sat down on her bed, careful not to crush her present, stroking her hands as if to steal herself for something unpleasant waiting to crash down on her. The little light that Tilda had kindled in her heart for a few moments, flickered and died out as she looked around her. Emryk was sleeping soundlessly. The entire room was still, devoid of the castle’s energy and laughter. Who are you, the walls seemed to ask, outraged.

 _‘I am Maud…’_ she whispered, not really feeling the meaning behind those words.


	19. Slughorn's Party

By Christmas Eve, the entire castle had been decorated for the occasion. Mistletoe and holly was hung in doorways and archways, everlasting icicles were applied to the Grand Staircase’s banisters, and the suits of armour had been charmed to sing carols. But the main attraction was by far the Great Hall, much more peaceful now that most of the boisterous students had left. There, Rancorous Carpe had brought the twelve towering fir trees which had been decorated with crystal balls, icicles, mistletoe, candles, or even real, live fairies, as enchanted dry snow was falling from the ceiling, turning the floor into a powdered stone cake.

Outside, however, the jolly spirit of the holiday had been frozen away by the blizzard, leaving any eager for snow-fights students stranded inside. The whiteness and the grey had engulfed the forest and the game-keeper’s hut, despite de howling wind which picked up the fresh snow, tossing it hundreds of feet away, reshaping the landscape constantly. The snow continued to fall throughout the day, until the dark poured from behind thick, grey clouds, engulfing everything into a speckled black.

Maud stared at herself in the mirror. She felt strange in that burning red dress. Her face seemed paler, her lips brighter and fuller, and her eyes stood out eerily, as though the blackness of her irises repelled light. Perhaps braiding her hair at her back was not such a good idea, leaving her face exposed like that. But she didn’t know what else she could do with it, other than wear it like Tilda had shown her months ago. So she let it be with a sigh and focused on the dress instead of her face, hoping that others would do the same and not notice her all that much. The dress was simple, yet elegant, with sleeves that looked more like straps and a modest neckline. It was the type of dress that hugged the torso perfectly, yet from the waistline below it flared gradually, stopping just below the knee. Maud had never seen something more beautiful and she almost felt bad for wearing it, afraid she would ruin it.

At eight o’clock she made her way downstairs, past the Fat Lady’s portrait, towards Slughorn’s office. Distant carols echoed down the corridors as she hurried, hugging her cardigan more tightly. Despite the cheerful atmosphere, the castle was still chilly and cold drafts occasionally found their way through stone and glass, sending shivers down her spine, making Maud wish she had brought a thicker jumper with her. She was cringing inwardly as she imagined what the party would be like; wondering if it hadn’t been better perhaps to just stay put and don’t bother, when she knocked into a black robbed, solid somebody.

‘Look who’s an exile too,’ grinned Alphard, steadying Maud with one hand.

‘What? Sorry...’

She stepped back, taking in her surroundings. A few more corridors and she would no longer have to wonder. She could hear the music and the laughter already.

‘Exile—as in bound to Hogwarts for the holidays. What did you do? Forgot to write to your parents? Stolen a toilet seat?’

Alphard didn’t notice her shifting uncomfortably as she forced a nervous laugh.

‘I take it you’re going to Slughorn’s party?’ she changed the subject.

‘Yes, I am. May I escort you, fair Gryffindor?’

He bowed with mock ceremony, extending an arm gracefully. Maud laughed, but took his hand, grateful for not having to arrive alone.

Human emotions are strange. They swarm inside us, consuming us, sustaining us. They can spring to life just as easily as they can be put off, with a simple gesture or a word. As they walked down the corridor, hand in hand with mock seriousness upon their faces, Maud’s heart let itself be distracted by the easy feeling a game of pretend brought to her. Her worries scuttled off to some corner of her mind, leaving behind just the dull sound of their feet as they approached Slughorn’s office. It felt strange to her, yet some part of her mind could not help but wonder if that’s the feeling one might experience while walking with a sibling. Because there was nothing in her that resembled the electric buzz humming inside her whenever she was with Tom, but she felt calm, perhaps even safe, nonetheless. Perhaps she had been quite prejudiced earlier when she assumed Alphard would not be nice just because he was Slytherin and had been in Tom’s circle that night. Part of her now understood that there are layers to a person that make it difficult to simply stamp them with a word such as good, or evil. Alphard, in many ways, reminded her of Arthur.

‘You look quite nice. Red suits you,’ grinned the Slytherin over the enchanted bells that rang some feet away from them.

Maud reddened. How was she supposed to react to a compliment? Say thank you? That sounded a bit conceited. Finally, she smiled, feeling a bit uneasy for being remarked in that way.

‘You too…I mean, you look nice too, not the red part, obviously. You’re not wearing red.’

Her cheeks grew redder still. He did look nice—more than nice. Alphard looked regal with his straight posture, his broad shoulders hugged perfectly by his black dress robe, the white shirt underneath bringing out the paleness of his skin, set violently against his dark, perfectly styled hair. What was funny though, was that that air of royalty extended no further, despite his handsome features. There was a constant smirk shadowing his lips and his eyes always seemed to glow with laughter and carelessness. There was no pride etched on his face, nor some sense of superiority that would complete that noble air.

 Alphard’s rich laugh brought her back to reality.

‘Be careful little girl. That’s a dangerous thing you’re doing—blushing and complimenting a guy. People might get the wrong idea.’

Maud’s eyes widened as she let go of his arm.

‘Oh, Merlin! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…I didn’t know—’

She looked mortified.

‘Is the idea of me that repulsive to you?’

But he was still laughing, more heartily so. Maud’s mortification grew, however, with every second, feeling worse than ever for her lack of social skills. He patted her head, his eyes filled with amusement.

‘I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to say—’

‘Calm down, little girl. I’m just messing with you.’

‘Oh…’

Luckily for her, they were now at Slughorn’s door.

‘Ah, Alphard! Good to see you, boy. And I see you’ve found Maud. Wonderful, wonderful!’

Slughorn ushered them inside, beaming beside them.

‘So glad you could come, Alphard. I thought for certain your father would want you as near as possible this last Christmas. Eh, good for me, ey?’

He gave the boy a light pat on the shoulder, the effect of punch obvious in his cheeks and glassy eyes. Maud shrunk behind them, content on being a mere shadow and observing the room. She had never thought Slughorn’s office could be so spacious—he must have put some kind of spell on the room before the party. The place was almost as beautifully decorated as the Great Hall, apart from the enchanted snow and ceiling and the twelve towering fir trees that is. It was still, however, very Christmassy—with holly and mistletoe hanging under large windows and archways, floating candles, icicles and crystal balls adorning the Christmas tree in the far corner. And the music filled the room, vibrating between light-beams, sending shivers down Maud’s spine as it climbed through some kind of Muggle gramophone, only there was no record playing and the eerie humming sang magically out of the golden horn. Crispy white tables were cluttered near the walls, leaving enough space in the centre for the early arrived to dance or chat excitedly. Maud refused to focus on the groups of people, knowing well enough just who was Slughorn’s favourite. They were mostly Slytherins, a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, and a couple of Gryffindors. Usually, there would have been many others, from all houses, except it was Christmas and people would rather spend it with their families than with a school teacher and his club of future celebrities.

‘Maud, dear, are you alright? You seemed lost for a moment there…’

Slughorn had stopped his ranting to Alphard and was now leaning closer to examine her pale face.

‘Yes, sorry, Professor.’

‘I was just telling you about Albus. I invited him, of course, but he had some business to attend to. How is he, lately? With all the pressure he’s facing…’

‘What pressure?’

Maud’s eyes widened in confusion.

‘Well, you know. People have been quite impressed when he put a stop to that maniac’s ascend. Some are even pushing him to take a position at the Ministry. Some want him as the minister of Magic!’

‘Maniac?’

Slughorn looked taken aback. He seemed shocked by her question, as though the simple mention of the word maniac would have had to be met with some kind of understanding—there was only one maniac in the world.

‘Why dear, Gellert Grindelwald of course. Ah goodness, new guests. Excuse me, Maud, I have to play host some more. Do have some punch, it’s delicious.’

And just like that, he cut his speech and with a smile made his way towards the door where a group of Slytherins and a Ravenclaw were eyeing the gathering with suspicion. She looked around for Alphard, who had managed to slip away the instant Slughorn turned his attention towards her. The only people she knew there were the two Gryffindors, but she had hardly ever talked to them and they seemed glued to each other ever since Maud had arrived, and Alphard who was Merlin knows where. No, that wasn’t right. She knew one more person there, Slughorn’s one and only, his most precious asset yet, but she wasn’t about to go and have a light conversation with him. That was impossible. Fortunately, just as she was about to go and sit at a table in the corner, Alphard found his way back to her, carrying two glasses of punch and smiling mischievously.

‘Missing me already?’

He gave her a glass and steered her towards one of the empty tables.

‘Actually, yes. Surprisingly, you are the only person I know at this party. Well, you and Tasha and Leopold, but they seem…busy at the moment.’

Alphard looked deflated for a split second, feigning heart-break.

‘So that’s what I am to you? Ah, my dear little heart, when have we stooped so low that we’ve become but a mere ticket into Hogwarts’ social life?’

Maud laughed at his theatrical gestures, almost choking on her punch. It burned down her throat.

‘I think your heart will be fine…once Malfoy comes back.’

This time, Alphard almost chocked on his punch, coughing hysterically.

‘Ah, but Abraxas has nothing compared to you!’

‘Careful. A slytherin might hear you and tell on you. Try and avoid another domestic, will you? I’m sure your heart would appreciate.’

He made a gesture to say how insignificant his heart was in the equation before a tall, blonde girl came to their table and snatched him away for a dance. And that was all with Maud’s ticket away from an awkward night. Now she had to choose between waiting alone at that table or mingling with a crowd in search of a familiar face—any face.

‘You should go easy on the punch.’

Tom sat down next to her as his voice, unreadable and icy cold, woke her up from her debate. She had been staring at her empty glass, lost in thought, before she glanced for a second at him, as though to make sure it was really him. He looked more imposing than ever, but also more reserved and harder to read. She couldn’t tell if he was worried, repentant, annoyed or sarcastic. However, she refused to investigate, or answer, and she stared back at her empty glass. The drink had warmed her up enough that she didn’t need her cardigan anymore, yet Tom’s simple presence filled her with a strange sensation that sent shivers down her spine and made her inch away from him as much as possible without falling over.

‘I take it you are still keeping to your threat,’ his voice was silky.

She took off her cardigan, mostly to have something to do with her hands while she avoided looking at him.

‘Maud…’

This time his voice had come out hoarse, burning with the shadow of an emotion she thought he fought hard to keep contained. She heard the flutter of robes and tensed instantly, expecting him to grab her, but he never did. His hands rested on his knees as he merely leaned forward so he could whisper more easily over the music.

‘Maud...’ he sighed, as though the words were burning in his throat, not wanting to part with his lips. ‘I’m sorry.’

Maud frowned. She could tell the apology was made in earnest, but words could not cut it this time. However, they earned him a look, one full of pain, anger and accusation, which he met with determination, drinking it up like a starving wolf. She could see in his eyes the battle, between his temper and his mind. He knew all too well he could not afford snapping at her lack of words and he also knew he’d hurt her more than he had ever expected and to his surprise, that bothered him.

‘I know…’

He sighed and muttered a curse, not knowing how to continue that sentence, struggling to find the right way to approach her.

‘Will you—’ he paused, changing his mind at the last moment. ‘Will you dance with me? Please?’

He grimaced at the word please, but his eyes burned hopefully as he stood up, extending his arm slowly. Maud eyed his hand suspiciously, as though it might spontaneously ignite and burn her to a char. Sighing, she decided a dance couldn’t hurt, and if he so much as squeezed her hand too hard, she would kick him. So she put her hand in his, slowly, as though testing the ground, all the while keeping her lips tightly shut. His hand was colder than hers, but it was soft and barely touched her, let alone grip her skin too tightly. He didn’t seem aware of it, but she could sense his muscles tense, reminding him constantly of the way he touched her.

Tom steered her to the side of the dancing area, a little away from the other couples. He grimaced at the music, probably reminding him of something unpleasant—Maud had no way of guessing. It sounded nice. It wasn’t a carol, it was a proper melody, with all kinds of instruments she didn’t know, and it was deep and relaxing, flowing through the air, gliding like honey. He put his hand on her waist, gingerly, careful not to scare her. She flinched at the touch, but he held her close, guiding her. She wondered what he was thinking, if he liked dancing or was just something he learned to impress others, yet the music captured her, stopping her from breaking her resolution. And they were too close for her to read into his eyes, or at least see his expression. All she had as a compass was the faint thud of his heart. Surprisingly, she found herself enjoying the dance.

‘You look lovely,’ he whispered, his lips above her ear.

He had said it in a matter-of-fact way, but Maud blushed nonetheless, hating herself for it and thankful her face was not all that visible.

‘I want to know everything.’

Frowning and confused, she pulled back a little so she could see his face and decipher what he was saying. But there was nothing there, nothing but determination.

‘Everything about what?’ she asked, biting her lip too late.

‘About you,’ he smiled triumphantly. ‘I know you’re hiding something, and I may also know what it is already. But I want to hear it from you.’

‘Why? ... Isn’t it a bit unfair? There is so little I actually know about you, yet I am the one hiding something?’

He gave her a small smile, an honest one, without any trace of malice or pride.

‘Because I want to know everything about you, that’s why. I could find out on my own, but that’s not the point. I want you to trust me, I want you to come to me when something bothers you. And I promise you, I’ll tell you about me.’

Maud looked at him sceptical. The song had ended, replaced by another, this time accompanied by a witch’s voice, singing about mad wizards.

‘Trust is earned, not given away for free,’ she broke away from him.

She turned around, intent on getting another glass of punch when she felt him close the distance between them once more. Again, she tensed at the thought of him grabbing her arm, prepared for the worst, but it never came. He made no attempt to touch her once more, he just leaned over so his lips were closer to her ear.

‘I have no parents,’ he whispered through gritted teeth, so low Maud doubted for a second he had said anything.

She turned to face him, puzzled and conflicted. There were so many questions that buzzed through her mind. Were they dead? Did they abandon him? If they were dead, then he wouldn’t have phrased the sentence the way he did. He would have said from the beginning: my parents are dead. Unless they abandoned him, in which case, being alive or not might not mean anything to him. Yet as he watched him, she saw no pain in his eyes, in his features. There was no emotion known to Maud there for her to read. Then why had he seemed so unwilling to part with this information?

Suddenly, Maud made her decision. She glanced around. There were too many people there, most of them eyeing them strangely.

‘Come with me,’ he said, understanding.

They wriggled their way out, narrowly escaping Slughorn who was anxiously looking for Tom.

‘Where are we going?’ asked Maud once they were on the corridor and Tom did not seem to slow down.

‘You’ll see, just follow me.’

She picked up her pace, struggling to keep up with his long strides. Halfway up a flight of stairs, she stopped, eyes-widened.

‘I’m so stupid! Merlin, how can I be so stupid?!’

Tom stopped, turning around surprised.

‘What?’

‘I forgot my jumper.’

She turned around too quickly and had to grab the banister to stop herself from falling. That one glass of punch had been enough to make her dizzy.

‘Leave it,’ said Tom, not moving from his spot. ‘Black will take it, or Slughorn.’

Maud looked at him doubtful, turning slowly. Nevertheless, she did not protest, already tired from all the wandering around, climbing stairs and trying to keep up with Tom. Finally, they reached the seventh floor and turned left. It was one of the areas Maud had never explored.

‘Are we there yet?’ she asked impatiently, hugging herself against the chilly draft piercing her exposed skin. The sound of carols was now faint, distant like a half-remembered dream.

‘Nearly,’ whispered Tom, stopping in front of a tapestry depicting a wizard trying to teach trolls ballet.

She watched as he paced in front of the tapestry, lost in thought for a few seconds, before the opposite wall started to tremble, the stones moving so that they revealed a large, dark door. Tom opened the door and gestured for her to follow him.

Her eyes widened instantaneously. The room was larger than the Gryffindor common room or Slughorn’s office. It had only one large window on the far wall, decorated with holly and mistletoe. A large Christmas tree towered one of the corners and two comfy-looking armchairs were positioned in front of it. The walls were lined with shelves packed with books and strange objects Maud couldn’t recognize. On her right, there was a fireplace and a large, red sofa and two armchairs, bathing in the warmth coming from the cheerful fire.

‘What is this room?’ she asked, still admiring the place.

‘The elves call it the requirement room,’ replied Tom, pleasure dripping from his words as he sat down on the armchair nearest the fire. ‘Not many know of it, fewer still know its potential. It is a secret room that appears only when the person walking by is in great need of it.’

‘And what is your great need?’

She sat down on the couch, happy to feel the warmth on her skin.

‘Silence and privacy,’ he said, his mind somewhere else for a few moments.

‘Then why did you bring me along?’

Tom turned his gaze on her, his eyes burning. He smiled bitterly.

‘Because I am in great need of you.’

Maud felt her cheeks grow hotter and she averted her eyes, feeling uncomfortable under his penetrating gaze.

‘What did you mean when you said you have no parents?’

‘I meant exactly what I said.’

There was an edge to his voice.

‘Did they…’ she stopped, turning her head towards him. She knew she was threading dangerous waters, but she couldn’t help her curiosity. Not even the warning in his eyes could stop her. ‘What happened to them?’

‘You’re asking a lot of questions,’ he said through gritted teeth, crossing his long legs. He made that armchair look like a throne.

‘And you’re answering very few,’ she felt bolder than common sense dictated.

‘I’m answering enough.’

‘Hardly.’

Tom frowned, evidently not pleased with the turn their discussion was taking.

‘I told you more than you think. Now it’s your turn.’

Maud shifted uncomfortably on her sofa. She kicked her shoes off and curled up in the corner near his armchair, studying his expression.

‘My turn to what?’ she asked stupidly, knowing all too well what he meant.

‘Maud,’ he scowled, ‘you know very well what I mean.’

They stared at each other for a while, neither of them saying anything. As she looked at him, Maud realized how lonely she sometimes felt, not being able to talk about her lack of memories with no one other than Dumbledore. The truth was, despite the recent laughter and good friends, if she were to search deep down, she would find only sadness, choking and thick, fuelling every nightmare that plagued her. She didn’t want to feel that way—empty, insecure, alone, afraid. So maybe, just maybe, if he told him, if there were one more person, other than she and Dumbledore, then she would be better.

‘I…I’m not Dumbledore’s niece,’ she whispered.

Tom watched her patiently, unfazed by her statement. He knew that already. He knew all she had to say already, but as he had told her before, he would rather hear her say it.

‘The truth is…Dumbledore found me at the castle gates, unconscious and without any memories. Since then, he’s tried to help me and retrieve my memories, but so far nothing’s worked. Whoever did it…whoever took away my memories…they did a great job.’

Her voice was hoarse, bitter.

‘I’ll help you,’ he said simply, his face unreadable as his eyes remained on her.

‘How? If Dumbledore couldn’t…’

He stared her down, anger flashing in his eyes.

‘I know more than you can even imagine. I know things Dumbledore wouldn’t even dream of.’

She didn’t argue with him even though part of her screamed with the desire to mock his confidence. But she couldn’t. No one could dare mock someone so dead set on the way they perceived themselves. There must have been a reason to what seemed to be his over-confidence and Maud wasn’t about to just waste her slim chance of getting what she wanted.

‘How?’ she asked again, this time omitting the doubt.

‘Through Legilimency,’ he said simply, his voice ringing in the air with intensity.

‘You mean going through my mind…There is nothing there. Dumbledore already tried it.’

She was frustrated. She had expected more after his bold affirmation of having superior knowledge.

‘I know that. I’ve seen him do it last time and that was no way to do it. You were too weak then, too unstable for his search to be fruitful. You know, there’s a difference between forcefully trying to retrieve a piece of information from a weak mind, a scarred mind—information which is probably too painfully and whatever is left of it is thus scattered away, to the darkest corners of said mind—and invading a mind now determined to recover it, willing to aid the foreign magic rather than battle against it. A fragile mind is too afraid to be shattered again, a desperate one would rather be shattered into a million fragments than be incomplete.’

He was now leaning over the armchair, his face looming over hers. His words rang in Maud’s ears, burning her.

‘Are you really that confident?’

Her voice sounded more incredulous than she had intended. He gave her a wicked smile that froze the air and sent dreadful chills down her spine, stopping the blood in her veins.

‘Oh, little lion, you have no idea.’

She stared at him intently, almost too afraid to hope because it all felt like sealing a deal with the devil. Yes, he might grant you your darkest, deepest wishes, but he will most certainly take your soul in the process. Did she dare hope?

‘It’s all up to you,’ he whispered then he got up in one fluid motion and turned his back on her, watching the fire crack. ‘Do you really want to know? Do you really want to face everything your mind has so desperately tried to tuck away? Because there are few charms and curses that leave no trace, no mark of any sort. I can figure things out. It only depends on how willing you are.’

‘I want to know!’

She got up, her voice trembling with angry determination, her fists clenched.

‘Well then,’ he said turning around, his face now expressionless, ‘let’s not waste any more time.’

‘Sit down,’ he said, pointing at the sofa sternly.

Maud obeyed, sitting exemplary on the edge of the sofa, her hands placed gingerly in her lap. The only reason why she wasn’t trembling with fear was that she dared not hope anything new could come out of this. So she sat calmly while Tom dropped to his knees in front of her, giggling softly at the image. Their eyes were now almost at the same level and she stared amused.

‘Something funny?’

‘Yes,’ she smiled. ‘You… being on your knees.’

He stared at her intently, as though he was trying hard to refrain from saying, or doing something that might scare her. After a few seconds, he sighed, tired and annoyed, and let her comment slip even though it bothered him. He placed his hands on her knees, slowly, so as not to startle her, the touch so light it resembled a cold brush of air. Maud shuddered, wanting to get farther away.

‘Shh,’ he whispered when he felt her shift uncomfortably.

She ordered her heart to calm down, lifting her gaze so that it found his. She saw him hesitate briefly, his lips parting ever so slightly.

‘Ready?’ he asked, his voice rich and powerful.

Maud nodded as fear and excitement battled in her. Whenever Dumbledore had tried to perform Legilimency on her, it had been unexpected and her mind had automatically sprang to its defences, trying to protect whatever fragile part it feared would be shattered. She didn’t know how Tom’s attempt would turn out any differently, but she had to try any alternative.

Maud gasped. The electricity spread through her like fire, crackling in her nerves, warming up every cell in her body, speeding towards her heart and her mind. All she could see was Tom’s infinite black eyes, boring into hers, forcing her mind to unravel. His gaze held her captive, making her helpless against him. She felt the air stop, hitched in her throat as the familiar and cold brush crept behind her eyes, into her mind. It barely touched the surface and yet images sprung up immediately, called upon with such authority it was impossible to ignore.

It was Tom’s face she saw, looming over her, more intimidating than ever. He was the Tom she had seen on Diagon Alley, frighteningly polite and cold. But then a smile crept on his face and mischief shone dangerous in his eyes as Slughorn’s voice rang distantly. The breeze went deeper still and Maud was now staring into the face of another Tom, more human than the ones before, with a commanding anger in his look. She felt the shadow of a bruise where her skin had once been brutally grabbed and rage build up inside of her, calling back the fear and the loneliness. Magic was seeping through her, engulfing her senses, dulling out everything else but Tom who had changed once more, this time into the cruel figure of a dark lord. And then his cruel, high-pitched laughter shattered that image too into a repentant expression which disappeared just as quickly, engulfed in another surge of fear and rage. Were those her feelings? She could tell. She only knew that all the while warmth had been building up inside of her until it could no longer be contained and it burst out, wrapping around Tom’s face, softening it, which only made the pang in her wrists seem all the more painful as phantom nails dug into them and his own twisted fury washed over his features. Maud blinked away from the scene before she could lose any sense of reality barely left in her mind. Tom’s probing consciousness was sent away, into a calmer place.

Emryk spread open his wings, his beak touching her face gingerly where tears had streamed down her cheeks. But even there the darkness found its way through the warm-filling red of feathers, bringing with it the choking memory of death. Once more, Tom’s mind was forced away before the pain could escalate any more and she could hear Arthur’s rich laughter, or Black’s taunting voice, playfully dangerous. Tilda’s squeaks followed suite, only to be chased away by Dumbledore’s piercing blue eyes. The Hospital Wing flashed before her eyes and the desperate feeling of abandonment crashed into her so hard she gave out a piercing cry. Maud could no longer breathe, she was choking in confusion and fear. Where was she? Who was that man? Who was she? She screamed again but no sound came out this time, only tears that poured and poured and poured, until she could no longer feel them running down her cheeks, until the whole scene dissolved into another, equally painful, yet called out with impossible power.

Tom’s hands were holding her wrists, his voice still ringing dangerously in the hallway. For a brief moment, Maud entirely forgot what that scene was all about. She forgot the confusion and the pain, she only saw those two dark eyes, so familiar and reassuring it filled her with warmth and mirth.

‘Tom…’ she whispered, gently, lovingly, as though nothing else in the universe mattered right then. There was a whole word condensed into that simple word, one soul calling out to another, acknowledging it as part of their own. And it made the betrayal all the more painful as the spidery fingers encircled her wrists, bruising her skin, shattering the idea of safety, of love and warmth away from her mind. There was nothing left in her world but violence and cruelty. She was alone in there, pushed away by Tom’s brutality. Only it wasn’t Tom anymore, it wasn’t his hands hurting her and the eyes that bore into hers were no longer infinite black—they were blue, icy blue.

A woman screamed as the magic seeped back into her. Where was she? Who was screaming? She was afraid and as the panic rose in her throat, all she could do was fight against the hands that held her, digging into the bone merciless. The man’s beautiful face was caressed by soft blond locks of hair. He would have looked angelic if not for the devilish determination in his eyes, lined by the distant resemblance of a once felt sorrow. But not now. Every emotion was tucked away, behind the grand scheme of things and the blue of his eyes looked twisted and sick as it twinkled in a most sickening way. He pushed her hard, until she hit a wall. For a moment, all she could hear was the woman screaming, louder still if that was even possible. But then…then the silence took over, leaving nothing behind, taking away that rich and accusing cry for help. Pain and magic mingled in her, forcing out a vengeful cry, dark and passionate—murderous. Before the sound could wake her up from her stunned state, a warm, sweaty hand stroked her cheek softly, as though to apologize for its owner’s actions. Her vision was obscured briefly by the sweet blond locks as a pair of lips brushed the side of her temple, muttering something she could not understand. The only thing she could understand was the pain—that ugly feeling that kept rising in her chest, poisoning her senses, the only thing on which she could focus as everything dimmed away around her and the world was shut out.

Tom was forced out of her mind, her emotions overflowing him. She was staring straight through him, not seeing anything, not thinking, her eyes empty, unaware of her shaking.

‘Maud,’ he said as gently as he could, although there was an edge to his voice.

He raised his hands slowly, so he could cup her cheeks in an attempt to steady her. When she flinched at his touch, not really seeing him, Tom felt that pain he saw in her mind once more, this time as though it was his own. He had hurt her more than he would have ever imagined, much like the man he had seen in her shattered memories, and now he did not know what to do.

‘Maud…’ he whispered again, almost pleading.

He was there too, he had seen his own face in her mind as though through her eyes and he had felt the undeniable warmth and fondness. He needed to have her look at him the way she used to, the way that made him feel so painfully yet delightfully alive. He needed that. He couldn’t bear the pain and anger in her eyes, the reserve and the flinching.

‘Maud, listen to me,’ he said softly, his head closer to her. He had meant to brush his lips against the side of her temple, but he stopped just in time, remembering the vision he saw in her mind. ‘It’s me…it’s me, Maud. It’s Tom.’

‘Tom…?’ she whispered confused, blinking slowly as she tried to focus on his face. Then realization dawned on her, slowly, steadily, like a small river warming in the spring, casting off the thick layer of ice.

‘Tom,’ she said again, exhaling in relief. ‘Oh… did you do it? Did it work?’

But she didn’t get a response. Tom pulled her down towards him, holding her tightly, his face buried in her soft hair.

‘No…It didn’t.’

His voice was hoarse and muffled by her hair and when she tried to push away so she could see his face, he held her tighter still against his chest. He didn’t know why he was doing it, but it felt necessary for him to mend what his brutality had broken before. It was perhaps why he lied to her, omitting his discovery, pushing aside that man’s face for investigating later. One day, he would find the man and kill him for what he’s done to his Maud. One day, he would kill Maud’s father and avenge her, just as he had done with his.

‘Oh…’

She squeezed his robes, trying hard to hide the disappointment in her voice.

‘Thanks anyway…for trying,’ she let go of him and pulled back, standing up quickly.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Tom, standing up as well. Her sudden movement had left him annoyed and equally confused.

She just stood there, in the middle of the room, looking lost, not really knowing what to do, or say.

‘I don’t know…I just feel… beaten and empty.’

‘So you’ll just run away and hide?’ he said accusingly, stepping closer to where she was standing.

She didn’t answer him, but she turned her head so her face would stay hidden from him. She didn’t want him to see just how much she had let herself believe in him and how disappointed she was now. Despite her wishes though, Tom closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her once more, holding her head against his chest.

‘However you feel, that does not mean you have to be alone as well.’

And just like that, he pressed his lips against the top of her head and stayed there, not letting her go, not caring for anything else.


	20. Where hearts have fallen

To say that Tom Riddle did not know love would be an understatement. If ever there had been two things so opposite, so at war with each other that they would not allow themselves to cross paths, they would be the Dark Lord and that weakening emotion called love. Tom Marvolo Riddle did not love. He desired, he obsessed, he antagonized and he abused, but his heart was not wired for that one particularly capricious emotion. If it were, that would mean the universe possesses a cruel sense of humour, for he himself was the result of a loveless, artificial union Merope Gaunt had forced upon an unfortunate muggle. He came into this world through magic—powerful and selfish—so it would seem only fitting that he would later become obsessed and enamoured with the very thing that brought air to his lungs.

Given these circumstances, Tom’s mind was constantly at war in Maud’s presence. Her proximity stirred such feelings in him that were against his very nature, yet they were almost too powerful to battle against.

‘What?’

His sharp, annoyed tone startled Maud.

‘Nothing…’

Tom raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

‘…you were the one staring at me.’

He set down the book he had indeed been neglecting, too busy navigating through his thoughts to even notice her staring back at him. The library was deserted, sign that the few students spending their Christmas at Hogwarts were either outside, enjoying the snow, or feasting in the Great Hall.

‘You seem distracted,’ she continued when he did not reply.

A small, wicked smile found its way to his lips, the present glinting stronger in his eyes as he grew more and more aware of the reality surrounding him.

‘Do I?’

He stood up suddenly, extending his arm to Maud. She hesitated for a few seconds before taking it.

‘Now, if you have finished boring me to death, I have something I want to show you.’

‘You were the one that suggested coming to the library!’ she scoffed, but followed him nonetheless.

They climbed down the stairs, rushing past a few merry ghosts as they passed the Great Hall. There, Tom stopped for a moment, allowing Maud to catch up with him. He seemed undecided for a split second, before turning on his heels, towards the dungeons.

‘Where are we going?’ asked Maud confused, struggling all the while to keep up with his long strides.

He stopped again and Maud bumped into his back. He turned around, clearly displeased by her lack of attention.

‘A place you will like,’ he smiled wickedly and turned back the way they came, ignoring the girl’s mumbled protests.

‘Am I supposed to enjoy this enigmatic journey?’

However, Maud’s grumbles were met with stony silence as Tom sped down a corridor, eventually disappearing behind an old, creaking door which led to the courtyard. Outside, the cold wind rustled between white dunes, sending the icy powder into the air as it searched for an untouched patch of fresh snow. The sky was grey and heavy with new snowflakes that slowly found their way towards the ground. Maud’s ears were stinging as she battled against the snow in her attempt to follow Tom, now a dark figure in the distance. For a moment, she thought she could hear faint carols being carried away by the wind, all the way from Hogsmeade. She imagined the hearty, welcoming flames inside small and cramped houses and the delicious food waiting on forgotten wooden tables, somewhere in the distance. And there she was now, cold and wet in the wind, inappropriately dressed, jumping through snow and trying to follow a Slytherin.  

Squinting her eyes, she saw him stop by the lake and hurried down the hill, coughing and gasping in surprise whenever her feet would slip dangerously. She could feel his impatience radiating from him.

If not for the howling wind, she would have asked more questions, but as it was, the only thing she could do was try and keep up with him as he glided effortlessly along the lake’s shore, aiming for the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Maud’s skin started to prickle as realisation dawned on her. That was certainly a place she did not like, and when she saw him graciously slip between two nearly collapsed trunks, she stopped mortified.

‘No,’ she whispered, as pale as the snow.

Tom turned around slowly; ready to question that faint negation that parted from her lips. His expression, however, softened slightly when he saw her face, etched in barely contained horror.

‘Why have you stopped?’ he asked, slightly exasperated. He had been so close to giving in to his impulse to grab her and steer her towards their destination.

‘This is not a place I like. You know that,’ she replied with trembling lips, her gaze reproachful and determined.

‘Yet.’

‘What?’

‘This is not a place you like yet.’

He said exasperated. He should not have to explain himself to anyone.

‘Do you trust me?’

His question caught Maud off-guard.

‘Trust is earned.’

‘Yes,’ he hissed. ‘And sometimes, it requires a leap of faith.’

Her gaze softened slightly, but her stubbornness refused to be chased away by his mischievous smile.

‘I think you had your fair share of that already.’

‘Can’t a man give you a Christmas present?’

The snow rustled and danced between the two of them, impatiently waiting for Maud’s decision. Finally, just as Tom’s patience was running even thinner, she gave in.

‘Promise me I’ll like it,’ she said as she closed the distance between them and took his extended arm.

‘There’s no fun in empty promises,’ he replied, yet he squeezed her hand ever so slightly.

The forest seemed suspended in white, unmoving, indifferent and mute to the world outside its boundaries. And as he guided her deeper, farther into that white, it grew stiller and colder, stealing away their warm breaths and sinking its teeth into their clothes.

‘Charming place,’ whispered Maud, afraid anything louder might stir some concealed beasts.

‘It will grow on you,’ he smirked in reply.

‘I can see that,’ she retorted as she jumped over some black roots that rose menacingly from underneath a mount of snow.  

He ignored her remark and they kept on walking, until, eventually Maud’s hand had frozen on his and she felt compelled to complain.

‘How much longer? I’m not exactly dressed for a walk to the North Pole.’

‘You’re worse than a child. We are almost there.’

‘No. Believe me, a child would not have suffered through this cold for so long without saying a word.’

‘Merlin!’

He stopped exasperated, took his cloak off and put it around Maud’s shoulders, wrapping it tightly around her.

‘What are you doing?!’

‘Must I always state the obvious?’ he replied dryly, taking her hand and starting to walk again.

‘But you’ll freeze!’

‘No, I will not. And even if  I would, at least the last sounds I’d hear would not be your complaining.’

She rolled her eyes at him, but kept close to him nonetheless. She felt guilty for having stripped him of his warm cloak and, more importantly, she was surprised—selflessness did not seem like Tom’s strongest suit.

‘Thank you,’ she said simply, looking up at him. Suddenly, she felt happier than ever.

‘Now close your eyes.’

‘What?’

They had reached a small clearing when Tom positioned himself in front of her, blocking her view. The place, however, seemed just as ordinary as any other and Maud’s confusion grew.

‘Once I ask…just once do as I say without any questions. Would it kill you?’

He threw her an impatient look, not moving an inch.

‘That’s what I’m afraid,’ she replied jokingly, only the remark stirred something unpleasant in his memory, making him flinch imperceptibly.

‘Aren’t we all, little lion? Aren’t we all…’

‘Fine,’ she said, not liking his tone at all.

As soon as she closed her eyes, she heard him move away from her, until she could no longer sense his presence, just a faint tingle crawling under her skin that indicated to her he was doing magic. It made her heart tremble in anticipation. She wasn’t exactly excited to see his surprise, what made her blood run faster was a long-forgotten part of her that had been left buried underneath all her nightmares, which now quivered with desire—craving to feel more of his magic. Whenever she felt that suffocating power, a shadow of terror would swell up in her, yet, at the same time, she would be strangely reassured, as though there was something peculiarly familiar about that tickle of power, something calling back to her from times no longer remembered. What was it about Tom’s magic that made her want to run from him and with him at the same time?

‘Open them,’ he whispered in her year, pulling her out of her musings, his lips almost brushing her skin.

Slowly and with reluctance, her eyelids parted, letting the light flood her vision.

‘Tom!’ she gasped, stepping into the clearing, her arms reaching out to the myriad of flickering lights dancing in the air, entangling themselves with the cold white snowflakes. Her feet automatically carried her to the centre of the space, towards where all the golden specks seemed to float. There, still growing out of the snow, gathering its roots from all around, stood a brilliant, dark green fir tree. And with every second, it grew even taller, breathing in the lights, the snow, the wind, climbing higher, and higher, until eventually it stopped, suddenly seeming too tired to carry its fresh needle-like leaves. Sighing, the tree became motionless, only its leaves twitching occasionally, shifting in the air, and changing their shape as icicles formed at their ends.

‘You like it,’ said Tom smugly, stopping next to her to watch her expression.

‘No,’ she replied, turning suddenly to face him.

Tom raised his eyebrows in disbelief, challenging her.

‘I love it!’ she grinned as she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him with all her force.

‘Merry Christmas,’ he whispered, smiling against her hair.

It was the first time he had ever said those words voluntarily, to anyone. It was also the first time he had ever given someone a present—a proper one.

He felt her pull back from the embrace and he grunted in protest, tightening his hold possessively, before her lips brushed his gingerly, then more forcefully. He didn’t have a chance to respond, however, as Maud retreated just as suddenly as she attacked.

‘This is where the unicorn had died, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

Smiling, she let him go, reaching out to the fir tree and gently touching the trunk. It was harsh and cold, but she could still feel a constant beating buried deep within, calling to her, vibrating with magic. She closed her eyes, focusing all her attention on that rhythm. Was that a heart? Was it a shadow of the magical creature that had once lived and died there, a pleading whisper running through the roots?

‘Is it alive?’

‘Yes,’ he whispered just behind her, the pleasure trembling in his voice.

‘But it was dead… the unicorn was dead.’

‘Yes. And now it lives again because of me. And it will keep on living as a fir tree for as long as I want. Or, better said, you want, because it is yours now. Your personal Christmas tree.’

‘But…won’t it be unhappy?’

She seemed thoughtful all of a sudden and the joy slipped slowly from her eyes. She had been happy and pleased but the reason no longer made sense for her. Something about wrong and right kept buzzing annoyingly in the back of her mind.

‘Why should it be unhappy? It lives again. What greater gift could this creature receive?’

At this, she turned around and faced him frowning.

‘But it used to be a unicorn. A moving, breathing creature, free to roam the lands and now it has become a girl’s personal Christmas tree. What kind of life is that, if truly the unicorn’s mind is still there?’

‘You’d rather be dead than assume another form?’ he laughed incredulously.

‘I’d rather die as myself than live as something else,’ her voice rang with power as it filled the clearing, rustling the snow. For a split second, Tom’s body seemed to shiver.

Perhaps he had wanted to reply with a nasty retort, snap at her and set her straight, show the error in her judgement, but he remained silent, something boiling under his skin. Maud too was quiet, staring into his black eyes, searching for something she didn’t quite understand. She felt uncomfortable all of a sudden and Tom’s cloak seemed to burn her skin.

‘Are you cold?’ she asked suddenly, not bearing the silence any longer and not knowing how to end the previous discussion.

Tom did not reply. He put his cold hand on her cheek, frowning as he fought an unknown urge. It was as though he was trying to read something in her expression, in her words, an answer of some sort to a question he felt should be asked but could not be bothered. In the end, he gave in to his desire and asked the question:

‘Wouldn’t you do anything to live? Even take on another form, for the form is not one with the spirit residing inside, but a vessel to be used at one’s convenience.’

Maud was confused. He was watching her with such intensity; it was hard for her to think. She barely knew herself, how was she supposed to answer such a question?

‘I think…’ she started to say, her voice strange, ‘…I think there are worse things than dying sometimes, if you can get over the fear of the unknown. Being trapped for one…’ She glanced at the fir tree, trembling between snowflakes. ‘Imagine having once been able to move about as you please only to find yourself one day stuck in the same place, unable to be who you truly are.’

‘You…are a fool,’ whispered Tom coldly.

‘Maybe… I don’t know,’ she smiled bitterly, not taking offense. ‘Tom?’

‘What?’ he replied, cold and distant.

‘Will you give me a second Christmas present?’

She held his gaze innocently, full of compassion and patience, and, above all—hope.

A few seconds before, Tom had been tempted to hex her then and there, bring her to death’s doorstep and see then how foolish she could truly be, make her beg for life and thus prove his point. However, as much as he wanted to crush her naivety, he also wanted to protect her and shelter her, keep her safe and next to him until all else perished and only they would remain. And she had to be happy. He could not have her miserable by his side. So, once again, that day, he bestowed his limited kindness upon her and, with a smile, asked what she wanted.

‘Give that creature its peace.’

‘You mean you want me to kill it?’ he asked in disbelief.

‘I mean I want you to restore it to the way it was supposed to be.’

Her voice was determined, but her face remained sad.

Sighing, cold and annoyed, he went to the tree and put his hand on its trunk. Closing his eyes, he took back that which he had previously given –a semblance of life to a transfigured corpse. And just like that, the faint vibration in the branches seized, and the humming of a ghostly heart became once more the silence of an empty clearing as the fir tree collapsed to the ground, finding refuge under the snow.

‘Done,’ he said, turning back to her.

Maud took his hand and, without a single word, led him out of the forest.


End file.
